It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes [and fears] for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.
It’s not yet six in the morning as I write this. I’ve been awake for a couple of productive hours: reading, writing, and listening. God speaks louder—or perhaps I just listen better—in the silence and solitude of early morning.
These are the sweetest hours, the teaching hours, the hours when I am filled. That I have been gifted with this time is not something I take lightly; I know I’m blessed.
So buoyed by Love, I begin a new day. I will miss the mark a time or two or ten, and come to the end of it spent. But grace.
And tomorrow, and for however many tomorrows I have remaining, I will begin again.
Soli Deo gloria.