This morning's sunrise.
Full disclosure though. Despite what might be a recurring landscape on my social media, I am not out doing my 'full' 4.5 km walk quite yet.
That trek takes me out into these wide open spaces where the wind chill is, well really chilly. Plus the sidewalks along the way are not always conducive to a steady, or even safe, stride. My winter-walking takes me into the sugar bush trail very close to our house, and I'm good with that. That stroll I do that most often during the day, so I don't really catch the sunrise, which happens way too late anyways.
So for now, from the window of the van, here it is. A glorious way to begin a day, I gotta' say.
I am thinking this morning of dear friends who are right now planning how they will mark the lives of beloveds who have recently left us, two of them from separate orbits of my life. And I'm thinking of others who are coming up to a one year marker of the same.
And the colour screams across the sky in defiance of the night that releases it. And the promise of a new day that can't be contained.
"My comfort in my suffering is this:
Your promise preserves my life."
Psalm 119
I'm still puttering about this psalm, the longest one, the one that gushes about the Word of God. And one thing is, the author clearly knew suffering. It's punctuated throughout the psalm, and always in context of how a reorientation to the promises of God and the good boundaries of obedience to it, bring hope and life and comfort and delight.
I wish all those things for my friends in the throes this morning. For all of us, really, since life can bring many sorts of sorrows.
I pray screaming colours of defiant hope to light the way,
and remind us all that goodness prevails.
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