So I plop to my knees in front of my living room window to pray. I’m in a sleepy state (nothing new.) My head is down. My eyes are closed.
For some reason, I open my eyes and I’m literally shocked by what I see. I jump up to grab my phone. I have to capture this. Right outside my window, like it was placed there just for me, is the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen (except perhaps for the one I saw over Lake Galilee.)
I don’t live on a lake. I don’t live on a hillside. I don’t live in the country. I live in a little cul-de-sac in the city of Grand Rapids. When I look out of my window I see houses, and concrete. But that doesn’t stop an artist at work. The canvas being painted outside my window wakes me up, and I shout to my husband, and interrupt his prayer time too.
David, you’ve just got to see this.
And maybe it’s because I’m not a morning person, and maybe it’s because I haven’t seen that many sunrises, that I’m completely overtaken by the sheer beauty of the reds and pinks and purples and yellows, as they dance behind a silhouette of bare winter trees.
I take picture, after picture, after picture. And five minutes later, it’s gone.
When I look at my phone, I see my Christmas tree reflected in the glass.
And I hear God whisper,
You light your Christmas tree? Look how I light the morning sky.