It's a rare moment, but I can actually hear the hum of the fridge and the clothes clicking the sides of the dryer as they dry and it is the middle of the day.
I look around and see the dishwasher that I abandoned to take hostage these precious few moments of quiet to write a few lines. Dinner is thawing on the counter and lunch crumbs remain scattered about me.
I look up and see hope--on top of the cabinet painted the colour of robin's eggs, four blocks, laid out to remind us that our hope is in our King.
The bright sun is reflecting off the snow and throwing shadows of the naked trees on the blanket of white.
The sun spills into the room, the sun that cracked dawn this very morning, that has risen since the beginning and I take it for granted.
Most days I don't even consider the sun. I know it is there and I appreciate it's beauty and warmth, but I have missed most of the sunrises in my life time.
There is a beautiful canvas on display in the heavens every morning, painted by the Master artist Himself. A free, new, daily exhibit and I've slept most of them away.
Early shadows were chased as light began to appear this morning, when I read how the Israelites gathered bread from heaven,
He gives us exactly what we need every day. In the early morning shadows, as we look to the Bread from heaven, He continues to feed us. As we sojourn here, we, 'do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'
As I watch the sun rise, I turn my eyes to the Son, for it would be far worse to miss seeing the beauty of the Son, the One who created the sun and causes it to rise every morning and holds all things together.
And, I can only direct my praise to the One who orchestrates this masterpiece every morning.
Will you watch for sun rises with me in the days to come and turn our praise to the Saviour?