A new dawn is breaking outside the window of this stone house where I sit in an overstuffed chair, listening to birdsong.
Or maybe it was just the body rhythms. My best sleep too often comes as dawn breaks.
But oddly whenever I return to my native southland, my body reverts to an old familiar pattern and I rise before dawn.
There is inherent hope in first light. A joyfulness that can’t be bought, but that should always be greeted with head bowed
A new day.
A fresh beginning.
A whisper of
See, you get another chance
To be loved
To be honored
To be embraced
Or to stumble along,
It’s a choice, up to each of us, what we do with the hope and promise of each new day.
Today I’m pondering something someone said
What if there is no end? asked the fellow sitting on a stool before a crowd. What if all this goes on?Then, how shall we live?
He’s right, I realized. We don’t have a plan for that.
We speak of doomsday as if its inevitable.
We consume apocalyptic literature and
24-7 news like a rabid dog devouring the dead
We prepare entire sermon series around it
And produce movies that create a hysteria of fear in the people.
We issue the warning: Be prepared
THE END is coming.
But we never stop to ask
What if it doesn’t?
What if morning light comes again,
And the hope that is inherent within?
All this despair over the expected apocalypse
Leaving us incapable of stepping out into the promise
of a new dawn
Shouldn’t we be asking,
it goes on?
How shall we live then?