The dark mornings are both hard and a gift. I want to snuggle under the covers a bit longer, but the dogs must be walked. I put flashers on them, a light on myself and bundle up and head out. Somewhere along the way the sun starts coming up. When I am in a place of grace, I pay attention. Each morning is a gift of dawning. I might prefer to dwell in the rights and wrongs the blacks and whites, the goods and evils. But morning is a perennial reminder that what is between is most lively, rich, beautiful and fleeting.
May it be so for you.