A little before dawn, The Man and I sat on the sands of the Atlantic Ocean, waiting for the sunrise. Except for the sound of the waves rushing endlessly to the shore, and the wind whipping about, the world was still.
With eyes fixed on the east, the depth of the moment proved too weighty for words. We sat silently, sipping coffee from paper cups.
In a few minutes, along the eastern horizon, a smear of pink appeared among the clouds. No trumpet blasted, no angels sang. Just a smear of pink in the east, quietly announcing the imminent appearance of the sun, and the coming of a new day. Do you see it?
With each passing minute, the sky grew brighter, the darkness surrendering.
While the clouds hid the sun’s face, they could not hide the blaze of its light, as it made its steady climb, heralding the miracle of morning.
“My voice shall you hear in the morning, O LORD; in the morning will I direct my prayer to you, and will look up” (Psalm 5:3).
“It is of the LORD’S mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is they faithfulness” (Lamentation 3:22-23).
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