I actually have time this morning. Time to sit for a few minutes and enjoy a piece of peanut butter toast and some reading. I open up to a psalm, still surprised by the wakefulness of my mind, the perkiness of my eyelids, and I read:
"The Mighty One, God, the LORD,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to where it sets.
From Zion, perfect in beauty,
God shines forth" (from Psalm 50, verses 1-2).
The Mighty One, God. God, stirring me to wake in the early morning hours, before the rising of the sun. God, shining in through cracks in blinds. God speaking and summoning me through bird songs. God, inviting me to see perfect beauty, hidden in gifts each day, until the setting of the sun and the gift of slumber.
God shines forth, here. God shines forth, always. In my ordinary, everyday existence, the extra-ordinary continually speaks and summons me to the full life of thanks and joy spilling over.
This is hard work. It's not impersonating Pollyanna, not living with "rose-colored glasses." It's living with new eyes, formed by new habits. The habit of thanks. Today, the work doesn't feel so hard; but some days, it's like slogging through fields of mud. Slog, slog, slog, gotta keep slogging. Until day after day after day, one day, I'll look down and see the gift in the mud and God in perfect beauty shining forth, even here. Especially here.