It is a Monet sunrise here in the Great Smoky Mountains. I have been watching the sun gradually disperse the mists since 5 a.m. I have come to love early morning, in fact both ends of the day, punctuated by the prayers of Vigils and Compline. When younger I did not appreciate those times of day or the prayers, but age teaches and mellows us.
In one of the very low periods in my life I was commuting almost 200 miles round trip from Lake Hartwell to work in Atlanta. That is when I found peace at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, and rediscovered faith and spirituality. I learned to appreciate rising around 3:30, even in the chill of winter, to begin my day with reflection and prayer. I would meditate as I made the long drive, using the time for quiet thought.
That time was a gift, one that has remained with me. We don’t think of such dark nights of the soul as gifts, but that is what they are. I have had a wonderful reward, one of appreciation for such mornings as this.