The Universe has a sense of humor.
Morning has broken like the first morning,
blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning!
Praise for them, springing fresh from the Word!
Sweet the rain’s new fall sunlit from heaven,
like the first dewfall on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
sprung in completeness where God’s feet pass.
Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning
born of the one light Eden saw play!
Praise with elation, praise every morning,
God’s recreation of the new day!
It is, for me and millions of us, dark days. Hard mornings. As one colleague said on Facebook, I go to sleep and all is well, then I wake up, remember, and I cry. For those both shocked at the election results and scared of what might happen if the attitudes expressed in the campaign come to fruition, these are hard days, as we deal with a deep sense of foreboding and struggle to find a path forward.
So of course, I am starting the Morning series of hymns. Bright, shiny, beautiful dawns. And of course it starts with this otherwise popular, easy to sing, inspiring hymn, made popular in the 1970s by Cat Stevens.
And of course, it’s a bright and crisp autumn morning here. The song matches the weather.
Oh Universe, what are you like?
The sermon kinda writes itself, doesn’t it. Always dark before the dawn, one day at a time, tomorrow is another day, etc. And the truth is, I’m not ready to write that sermon yet, or even that blog post. I’m not ready for the re-creation of a new day. I’m not ready to praise much of anything. I think that’s okay. If I were to bypass my own emotional process, I would be doing neither me nor anyone else any good.
But what I suspect these next few hymns will do for me – and maybe for you too – is hold the door open for when I’m ready to walk toward it. Some little musical reminders that life calls us on, that the world is forever turning, that we are still here.
Anyway. Be good to yourself in these days. Do the next right thing. Hold space. Love.
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