The darkness gives way to the grey of dawn. Somewhere beyond the freeway, past the sound barrier wall and the ivy vines straggling up it, the sun is rising and I can just about make out a few rosy streaks across the lightening sky. I miss the vibrancy of a Barehillock morning where, when I draw the curtains on a new day, I am often greeted by deep hues of purple and red and orange as the sun comes up. It's not that the sunrise is more wishy washy here. Just that there are more man-made obstructions obscuring it.
Sometimes the man-made obstructions conceal the creative hand of God. It's easy to miss his signature beauty when the worries of the world rise like godzilla, drawing our fearful attention to them and blinding us to what lies beyond.
I am so grateful for the assurance that God is always with us, supporting and encouraging, inspiring and protecting, providing for and loving us. Today as the sun rises on another glorious day, another gift of God, I choose to focus on him, so that I can more clearly see exactly what he is doing in the tasks that lie before me.
I choose to look for his signature beauty in the detail of the day.
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