A Certain Cadence

Outside my kitchen window, the surprise brightness of a crescent moon high in the east gives me pause in my morning coffee making routine, and I whisper an involuntary “oh!”.

Later, with my hands wrapped around a warm mug, I stand at the living room window and look to the east to see what kind of show the pre-dawn is putting on. Every day is different, uniquely spectacular, and equally praiseworthy.

You have to live life at a certain cadence to appreciate moments like these. For a long time, I didn’t.

Now I see the Divine in the sky and the changing of the seasons, in sweet pea tendrils clinging to lattice on my deck, in the rhythmic breathing of a tiny dog sleeping on my lap: these, the handiwork of the Creator.

Thank you for the quiet and the stillness of early morning, the muffled sense of winding down at the end of the day, and the joy sparking moments hidden in plain sight in between.

Thank you for this life with all its beautiful and terrible things, and a faith that turns my heart toward you in the midst of both.

Thank you for dark nights when I’ve felt alone; drawn sometimes to go deeper, other times to despair.

For mornings that always come. For spring driving out winter with miracles at every turn.

For the embrace of a loved one. For good conversation. For seeing eye-to-eye or agreeing to disagree.

For grace received and granted.

For the gift of a new day.

Amen and amen.

Thanks so much for stopping by. I'm here early most mornings with one of my photos and a few words about life and those thin places where faith intersects.

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