It’s dark when I wake and I spend the first moments of the day in silent conversation with the divine. I have questions. Requests. But mostly I just bask in the holy presence.

I’m sipping soy milky frothy coffee from a favourite mug as the eastern sky grows pink. I watch as the hues change and soften and the certainty of another dawn brings peace.

The tops of tall cedars bob and sway in the wind. They block part of my view. They have grown without my notice and now they are now too big. We’ve talked about topping them, or removing them altogether.  I’ll be glad when they’re gone and I have an unobstructed view of the morning sky again.

I watch as pink bursts and gives way to yellow, then pale blue. And the trees bob  and sway and do their best to distract me from the glory of another day breaking. Not today. Not this morning.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
1 comment
  1. The color and movement here will lull me to sleep this afternoon.

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