The morning of Grandpa Bud’s funeral, or celebration of life service as I like to call it, dawned before I was ready. The blast of my alarm clock shocked me awake. I fumbled for the snooze button and quickly tucked my arm back under the warm flannel sheets. I curled up a little tighter and groaned. There was nobody there to hear me, but it somehow made me feel better to voice my displeasure.
It had been a week of busy days and late nights and it took me a few minutes to remember why I had to get up so early. When my foggy brain cleared enough for me to remember, I really didn’t want to get out of bed. It was going to be an emotionally draining day and I was already emotionally drained. I wasn’t sure what was left in me to drain out, but I was sure my body would find something!
I jumped as my alarm clock blared out its obnoxious beeping and I punched the snooze button again. With a few more groans I rolled out of bed, turned my alarm off, and stumbled to the bathroom. Exiting the bathroom with my fuzzy green bathrobe snugged around me I shuffled to the guest room to open the curtains, then my office, and so on with my window opening routine.
When I made it to the dining room I swiped the curtain to the side and this gorgeous view greeted me. It was cold and the ground was frosty, yet the sun was bright and lit up my backyard with a warm glow. The sun positioned itself perfectly behind my neighbor’s pine tree and the triangle of shade spread across my yard, all the way to my dining room window.
I grabbed my cell phone from the pocket of my bathrobe and snapped this photograph. Yes, you can see a shadow from the dirt on my window; yes there is a weird sun flare in the middle of the yard, yes I could edit those out… but I choose to leave them in. They remind me of that morning. Imperfect and difficult, yet beautiful.
This isn’t the first sunrise photograph I have take from my dining room window. Maybe it’s because I only get up early enough to see the sun rise on the hard days, but each beautiful sunrise I see from that window is on a hard day, a day where I need a little extra encouragement.
I have come to the conclusion that those glorious dining room window sunrises are a gift from God. They’re a beautiful hug just for me and when I see them I can almost hear God’s gentle whisper in my ear, “It’s going to be okay. I will be with you today and I love you so much! Look at what I made for you. You’re not alone, we’ll live this day together. Look for my blessings today, this is just the first of many more to come.”
And that, my friends, is how I captured Grandpa Bud’s Sunrise. (Click to Tweet!)
Until Next Time,