Seeing the Light 1: Dawn

I sat this morning, breathing in a few moments of solitude before what I knew would be a non-stop day. It had been a gray and rainy weekend, and the clouds were finally peeling away from the early morning sky. I sat down in my living room, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and felt the light of a sunny, spring morning break over the horizon and cross over me, embracing me in radiant light. I savored that moment, and have all day.

As it would turn out, I needed every ray of that dawning light.

Today was busy, pressured, emotional, and relentless. I am still having some challenges putting it away and stopping my mind from churning over contingency plans, empathy for people frustrated by things I cannot change, my recognition of powerlessness, restless yearnings, disappointments, not to mention the ramifications of my own exceedingly glaring imperfections.

I first sat down tonight and thought, what point of light can I possibly write about? Today has felt like, “one of those days.” What light have I seen?

Then, I remembered the morning sunshine: the tangible flood of warmth, the promise of a new day. I remembered that there were several times today when a smile warmed my heart. I thought about a small gesture of friendship and gratitude that reminded me I am loved. I recalled a conversation where authenticity and humanness prevailed over the status quo. I was taken back to a moment where I caught a glimpse of faith and justice prevailing in a world where it can be all too easy to throw up my hands in despair. I thought of moments where I learned something, and other moments where I taught something.

Today was a mash-up of events, emotions, and experiences. In reality, so are most of the days of our lives. It is so easy to lose sight of the light of dawn once the pace of the day takes us off our center and propels us into full motion. Truthfully, I might still be in full-on, mind swirling upheaval if I didn’t intentionally stop and take the time to let the small points of light re-emerge. My prayer…my stillness…my small points of light.

Gifts of Divine Presence on the journey of life.

About harasprice

Social worker, professor, seminarian in The Episcopal Church, student, parent, teacher, writer, advocate, and grateful traveller along this journey through life
This entry was posted in Lent 2014 and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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