Monday, April 29, 2019 – Presences

There’s that beautiful pink morning sky again. It washes away the melancholy I wake with these days. I don’t understand much of anything, but I know that an ordinary extraordinary thing like that can work some things together that I need to have worked together.

I sit transfixed for a time, then the brilliance starts to fade. My eyes lift again and again to the east, watching as the sky returns to pale pre-dawn blue.

It does something to me every time, this thing that I enjoy in solitude and silence in the early morning. It brings to mind something that Augustine called the “sweetness”. Something I’m writing about. Something I miss. The presence of that absence so bittersweet, the morning magic a lingering gift that reminds me it was real.



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.

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