Tuesday morning I woke up to darkness without the aid of my alarm. I don’t know why. Guess I just felt refreshed enough from the sleep I already had, and was ready to pick up where I left off with yesterday’s work. As I moved through my morning routine, I noticed a slight pink slowly overtaking the rocks behind the house. I paid little attention, and continued rinsing and stacking dishes.
The dishwasher loaded, I moved to the family room to fold the blankets on the couch, and saw this pink had lightly soaked the creases of my sheers. Still, I continued folding.
It wasn’t until I moved around the corner to open the door and let the sun in for the day, that I saw it. Beyond the glass separating me from the outside, wide expanses of smooth cloud billowed up from over the tops of the mountains like cotton sheets from a clothes line, while the slight touch of the early sun set fire to their breadth, brightly spreading the light of yellow flame from end to end. The pink I’d seen from the sink and over my couch, soaked through each curve and dip of the clean-sheet clouds, just as it did my sheers, until all waved gently into a brilliant blue, waiting in the west.
It was nice.
In fact, the sight was so gorgeous, I had to share it immediately with the first set of sensing eyes I could find outside my own; so I grabbed my cat, and lifted him to the window to see. I wasn’t sure if he could appreciate life from an aesthetic perspective, or if that was more of just a human thing; but I at least wanted to give him the chance. As I suspected, he didn’t look once at the sky, but instead batted downward at the screen, in search of tiny bugs.
It got me thinking about what we let ourselves see in life. About what distracts us. About what opportunities we give ourselves to more fully experience the world. I didn’t notice the sunrise either, in those early minutes of waking; and I would have missed it entirely had it not been a typical part of my morning routine to open the front door for extra light during the day. My opening the door had nothing to do with expectation toward anything beyond, at that moment. I opened it merely for the sake of the light coming later.
During this season of Epiphany, let’s remember the breathtaking light of God which enters our minds and our souls, and gives us direction through each day we wake up in this crazy life; and lets think of the ways we open ourselves to receiving it, all the while thanking God for this beautiful gift of being alive, and having eyes to see what God has done.