Gracious God, Your mercies are new every morning.
Open my eyes to see your goodness and beauty all around.
Revive my spirit with delight and hope for today. Amen.
Monday
It happens every morning. The sun rises in the east. It's one of God's great displays of beauty whether I am there to enjoy it or not.
The earth grows quieter just before sunrise. Birds pause their singing as the cool curtain of night rises. Squirrels and prairie dogs squint in dawn's spotlight. Buds elbow their ways out of green overcoats, eager to bloom and enjoy a new day's warmth.
It is a rarer and precious occasion when I wake in the crisp air of dawn, invite a cup of coffee to warm my hands, and sit quietly allowing the mercies of a new morning to coax me into newness of life.
Most mornings, I may sit, but I'm also reading disheartening news. I may drink a cup of coffee, but I'm also painting my face with a protective barrier between others' expectations and my fragile ego. Siri might assume I'm quiet, but what she can't hear (yet) are the worries and wonderings screaming for my attention.
This week, I invite you to join me in recovering a sense of reverence each morning. God has infused each day, each breath, each bird chirping, each friend and neighbor with beauty, goodness, possibility, and, yes, mercies that can lead to new life.
Let's approach each day as Emily Dickinson suggested, "Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door; or has it feathers like a bird or billows like a shore?"
If I've learned anything about God, it's that God's gifts of grace surprise, delight, and revive me more thoroughly than any experience I can conjure up or create myself.
So, open every door. Marvel at every feather. Taste the salt of the air. God's mercies are new every morning, and they're God's invitations for us to enjoy.
