dawn

This morning I had to drive my oldest (who has yet to get her license, stomach bug ravenged the house this week and she fell victim, soon though!) over twenty miles to get dropped off at her school for the kick off to robotics season.  In the predawn hours we didn’t say much, we were both quite tired.  The night before my wonderful husband and I came home from a date, the first since the youngest was born two months ago, to find that the main sewer line had, well, backed up.  Into the bathtubs.  Needless to say, we were up well past midnight working on that mess: unclogging the line and bleaching every surface in all of the bathrooms.  The drive, from our home, is several miles west and then about ten miles south.  We commented about the darkness, and how, where we live it’s so much darker than it is the closer you get to the city.  We even stated how much more we liked the comfort of the darkness over the starkness of the lights of the city.

I dropped off my girl and headed home, ten miles north and a few miles east.  As I was driving north I faced darkness, nearly midnight black.  I couldn’t see any indication, outside of the clock in the car,  it was closer to dawn.  I was tired and it was difficult to not fall asleep, completely surrounded by dark.  Then.  I turned east.  It’s funny how you only see what you’re facing, how you can’t see what’s on either side of you when  you are heading one way.  I could not see the sky splitting open and dawn spilling through until I turned to face it.  I was missing the soft yellows, the brilliant pinks, the purples and warm oranges.  I missed the sky on fire with light.  Because I was facing the darkness.  It was right beside me, it didn’t just happen as I turned.  I nearly missed the birth of a new day, a new beginning, because I was only facing the darkness of night.

Funny, as I turned north again on the way home, all of the sudden the darkness seemed to be breaking, the blackness was fading into a beautiful blue that I hadn’t seen before because I had been so focused on the dark.  Which way am I facing in my life?  Am I so intent on traveling the road I am on that I can not see the light just to my side?  Am I spending so much time focused on the darkness ahead that the brilliant light of dawn is lost on me?  What a gift, driving with my daughter, what a beautiful brilliant gift, to be forced out of bed, out of my comfort zone and into the light.

Praying you are gently nudged toward the dawn of Christ as well today!

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