This morning, a newly minted five year old snuggles in for a cuddle on the front porch swing, while the first green of spring bursts out on the trees. “The same old world, but new.”* And every breath she takes against my body, every glint of light upon the river, every birdsong carol, all are morning prayers rising from the fresh dawn to the Father of creation.
Here is perfection, often glimpsed yet rarely grasped, and it lives and breathes in my arms.
Here is beauty so pure, and who am I to behold it, and how can a windswept hill make me want to cry for joy and longing?
Here is wonder in the warmth of a freckled face, and the curious nature of seeds, and this one child that I have woken to each morning for five years.
Here is life, life more abundantly.
It is right to give our thanks and praise!
* From Come and See: A Christmas Story by Monica Mayper
~lg
