There’s something about watching the sun emerge from the edge of the earth, 35,000 feet in the air.
I slouch down in my seat, and lift the window shade ever so gently as to not disturb my slumbering neighbors next to and behind me when the slightest hint of light glows about the edge. Peeking though the sliver, and holding my breath in anticipation, I pray that the angle of the plane is just right. Hoping I made the correct seating choice on this redeye flight, my smile grows as I find the pinpoint of light hovering just above the wing of the plane. I feel as giddy as a little kid on Christmas morning.
That’s what sunrises do to me. Watching the light blossom from the horizon, rekindles my senses of wonder and awe. It’s such an amazing gift to watch the light wash the world anew.
His mercies are new every morning.
I’ve never been much of a morning person and enjoyed my late nights, but becoming a mom, forced me to flip the script. Morning infant feedings led to breakfast and lunch prep before school drop off and long workdays. Mornings were so busy and on the go, that weekends were welcome invitations to sleep in when I could. Enjoy the morning did not exist in those days.
But then one summer we went to a family campout with some of our church friends. It was a bit stressful with the little ones, but on the first morning, I walked out to the beach and marveled at how absolutely stunning God’s canvas lay before me. The shoreline wiped clean of footprints of the previous day. The glitter of sunlight spread throughout the vast ocean before me. The warm spectrum of color brushed across the length of the entire sky. The whisper of the Spirit hovering over it all, conducting the first movement of the day’s orchestral piece.
Never have I felt such joy, peace, and absolute awe all at once. I vowed the next day to catch it all from the very beginning. To listen to the heavenly instruments warm up the skies in the pre-dawn. To watch the world sing its praises in the first rays of the sun. To feel God in this moment of glory. And the next morning, I got up when it was still dark, and the soft slow breaths around me meant this time was for just me and God. So I quietly emerged from the tent as the sky shifted to welcome the coming light.
I sat, anchoring my feet in the sand, as a witness to this sacred moment. Not as a mom. Not as a wife. Not as a writer, teacher, student, friend, sister, or neighbor. But in that moment, I sat as a Daughter of the Most High, bathed in His presence, consumed by His love, witness to His glory.
It doesn’t happen very often, but when I can, I try to catch the sunrise from wherever I’m at, even if that means from 35,000 feet in the air. Witnessing the coming of the light, watching the world wake up at its touch…it just makes my heart sing with the gratitude of a million blessings.
So as I slowly open up my window shade a little bit more, revealing the break of dawn on that flight back to Colorado from the beaches of my island home, I exhale as the light washes over my face, and inhale the peace and presence of my Heavenly King who is always with me whereever I go.
His mercies—and His joy, peace, and hope—are new every morning.