This morning as I settled into one of the Adirondack chairs out in front of our house, the sun hadn’t crested the horizon.
Cup of coffee in hand, I waited.
The meadow stretching out in front of me waited too.
Restless, I reached for my phone, and then thought better of it.
The meadow wasn’t restless. It just waited.
And then it happened, as it does every morning. The sun rose above the pine trees behind the house flooding the air with light and spilling across the meadow grasses and wildflowers. And, me.
In dark times we are called to be light in our little corners of the world. To rise above the horizon of another night and spill light across whomever and whatever crosses our path.
