Lent Day 11 Reflection
How blessed are the people who know the joyful sound!
O LORD, they walk in the light of Your countenance.
In your name they rejoice all the day.
– Psalm 89:15-16 –
Juxtaposed between the firmament and the heavens,
The clouds descend as fog in the morning hours.
A new day waits for the dawn of either sustained rain like tears of creation
Or the celebrations of a sunrise invigorating life for all things.
Suspended like the fog, the day begins with the sparrow’s call
Beckoning for a companion to witness what might unfold.
Could today be the day? On earth as it is in heaven? Could it be?
With great expectations, come away and wait with me…
The sun begins to rise with the chime of the feathered.
Morning is here—new mercies fall afresh like dampness of morning dew.
Sudden lifting of the fog parallels the elevation of my countenance;
Something is different about today, something hopeful makes me feel this way.
Caught up in the deepest of sleeps for so long, I dare be too bold to say
I’m fully awake, but I am at least becoming aware. Passing over Summer’s heat
Was the fall of other seasons, and the deafening drum of winter’s cold beat
Is beginning to wane thin. Spring is coming… Spring is coming…
My limbs stretch wide like a cedar branching out it’s canopy, my lungs
Fill with what seems like nothing but in fact is everything. Deep breaths.
Deep living. Fresh start, new beginning. Seeing sunlight’s welcome upon the window,
I open the doors to greet Morning and receive her warmth upon my face.
In a doorframe between inside / out, the liminal moment transforms my yawn to a yawp.
As if on cue, the clouds overhead separate like the Red Sea with the crimson and canary
Colors filling the void. With this break in the clouds, could this mean we’ve been found?
The brightest bright, the burst of light, the sudden change restricts my sight,
But without seeing as a choice, I must rely on a different voice;
The distraction of my sight parlays the vicissitude into an otherwise unknown sensory
Experience with creation’s symphony, a clear yearning for something beyond itself.
Trumpeting truth with vibrancy, shaking my soul to the Eternal’s summons,
The ivories whimsically dance, the violins ascending as the lark, the saxophone whistling
My blues away, no denying Light to overcome Dark. The best is yet to come.