Sunrise
I have long been a night owl. My whole life long that I can remember, I have been unable to fall asleep at a normal time. When I was a little kid, I would lie awake for hours wondering why people were supposed to lie in bed so long at the end of the day. It seemed ridiculous when you could be up and doing something. At least, it seemed like hours when I was little. I'm sure it wasn't then, but it is now. I never even realized this was abnormal until I got married and Dave fell asleep every night at 11:00 pm on the dot. I would poke him in the shoulder checking for signs of semi-alertness, and when I found none, I would look at him and think, "Really?"
Well, I learned along about high school to fill up the hours. This usually involved anything I could do quietly such as reading, studying, or writing, and I find now that if I read until I cannot keep my eyes open one second longer, I can keep my mind focused enough that it does not race all over the map--one of the symptoms of being awake while others sleep, though I am not sure if it is a cause or effect.
And that's the long way of saying I have seen very few sunrises in my life, having slept through so many of them.
My new schedule at work, which I chose and which works quite nicely for a natural night owl, is a graveyard shift. And when I drive home, it is under the sunrise.
What a fantastic time of day! I cannot believe I have been missing this for so long. I am talking about those few moments, maybe about ten minutes, from the time the light starts to rise above the mountains until you can begin to see the outlines of objects when moments before you could see nothing but pitch black.
This phenomenon happens every day!
Now, I am not really one to get all gushy about stuff like this, but have you ever thought, no, ever felt, what a miracle it is that the sun comes up every day? Well, it is, and if you haven't seen it in a while, I highly suggest standing on your driveway at 7:00 am tomorrow morning. You can thank me later.
What this makes me think of every morning, and I hope we can set aside the new connotation of this word for the duration of this blog post, during twilight, is the light of Christ. I am not sure that there are many times during this life that we experience more than twilight--being able to see things, but not under full light as they really, truly, in full-color are. And it is only by the light of Christ that we can see anything at all, and of course, if you haven't figured it out by now, I am talking about spiritual things.
I've been known to lie out in the sun at high noon soaking up the rays. Lovely time of day, noon. I have long been a fan of evening twilight, as well, but that morning twilight--that is infused with hope, and is such a beautiful, perpetual reminder that "God so loved the world..."
Happy Monday everyone. Do yourself a favor and start Tuesday on your driveway looking east.
Well, I learned along about high school to fill up the hours. This usually involved anything I could do quietly such as reading, studying, or writing, and I find now that if I read until I cannot keep my eyes open one second longer, I can keep my mind focused enough that it does not race all over the map--one of the symptoms of being awake while others sleep, though I am not sure if it is a cause or effect.
And that's the long way of saying I have seen very few sunrises in my life, having slept through so many of them.
My new schedule at work, which I chose and which works quite nicely for a natural night owl, is a graveyard shift. And when I drive home, it is under the sunrise.
What a fantastic time of day! I cannot believe I have been missing this for so long. I am talking about those few moments, maybe about ten minutes, from the time the light starts to rise above the mountains until you can begin to see the outlines of objects when moments before you could see nothing but pitch black.
This phenomenon happens every day!
Now, I am not really one to get all gushy about stuff like this, but have you ever thought, no, ever felt, what a miracle it is that the sun comes up every day? Well, it is, and if you haven't seen it in a while, I highly suggest standing on your driveway at 7:00 am tomorrow morning. You can thank me later.
What this makes me think of every morning, and I hope we can set aside the new connotation of this word for the duration of this blog post, during twilight, is the light of Christ. I am not sure that there are many times during this life that we experience more than twilight--being able to see things, but not under full light as they really, truly, in full-color are. And it is only by the light of Christ that we can see anything at all, and of course, if you haven't figured it out by now, I am talking about spiritual things.
I've been known to lie out in the sun at high noon soaking up the rays. Lovely time of day, noon. I have long been a fan of evening twilight, as well, but that morning twilight--that is infused with hope, and is such a beautiful, perpetual reminder that "God so loved the world..."
Happy Monday everyone. Do yourself a favor and start Tuesday on your driveway looking east.
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