As I make the bed first thing every morning, I pause and look out the window towards the backyard and the garage. This time of the year I know what I will see: mounds of unmelted snow, tracks from the squirrel gang that frequents the base of the bird feeder, and the bare branch remnants of my husband’s glorious garden. Maybe there will be a cardinal at the feeder, but probably not till a bit later.

I don’t stand at the window hoping to see something different. No, I stand at the window to welcome a new day, to give thanks for the light of a new day, and to remind myself to be present to this day, the new and holy day.

Soon after making the bed, but still in my robe and pajamas, I climb the stairs to the garret and settle in for meditation time. Lately, my quiet time has included listening to Cat Stevens sing one of my favorite hymns, “Morning Has Broken.” You can listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0TInLOJuUM

Morning has broken like the first morning;

black-bird has spoken like the first bird.

Praise for the singing!

Praise for the morning!

Praise for them, springing fresh from the Word!

Text: Eleanor Farjeon and Music: Gaelic Tune

What more could I ask for than to remember that each morning is like the first morning. Oh, if I could only live present to that gift, that morning gift, the whole day, every day.

That prayer would be enough. That prayer holds all those I love and all those unknown to me, but in need of a new day.

The words in verse three lift me even higher.

Mine is the sunlight!

Mine is the morning,

born of the one light Eden saw play!

Praise with elation, praise every morning,

God’s re-creation of the new day!

Each day is a chance to re-create the sun in my own heart, my own being. This is enough. More than enough.

I invite you to sing with me. I will stand at the window and listen for your voice.

An Invitation: What is your first view of the day? How does it help you move into the day?I would love to know.