Bright Morning Star

The light streamed into the room casting the kind of glow you only begin to see this time of year--sort of surreal, but warm and familiar.  But then, there has always been something about sitting in church--God's house---with His sun coming through the window--that has always been so indescribably beautiful--it is almost too sacred to write about--as if we should all just keep it to ourselves--just between us and God, our own sun-kissed God smile.

This morning as I sat enveloped in this glow, I watched as a young mother carried her baby-- a tiny pink-clad ball, sleeping in her mother's arms--part of this sun-filled room, and yet unaware of it, floating somewhere in the place that babies go when they sleep--somewhere only the angels are allowed to be.  Tiny fingers curled into a ball, tiny little toes curling under her pink dress.  Beauty beyond anything this world should be allowed to see.

Thank you God, for giving us a peek at your glory--in the sun on our faces, and the promise of life everlasting in the face of a child who has just begun her own.

Psalm 27:4