There’s so much I could write about today. I could write about the fact that I’m now married to a beautiful, intelligent, loving woman (I call her Beautiful on this site, keeping to the practice of pretending that this is all anonymous). Or I could write about our honeymoon and how Alaska is breathtaking and intimidating at the same time. Or I could write about how a good friend of mine, my mentor at work for over three years, was just diagnosed with terminal lung cancer and given six months to a year to live.
But I’m not going to write about any of that.
Today, I want to write about a sunrise.
I walked to work today. I do that off and on in an attempt to stay in shape. It’s a three mile walk, and that’s enough to warm me up for the day without leaving me too exhausted to work. The company I work for has ridiculous hours.* The reason that fact is important is that during a good portion of the year, my walk to work is done in the half-light of street lights.** During the summer months, I get to walk to work in real, honest-to-goodness sunlight.
As I walked out of my apartment this morning, I flipped on my iPod and then watched the glass shroud of the porch light fall to its untimely death for no apparent reason. Feeling unjustly imposed upon by the universe, I grabbed my broom and cleaned up the mess. After putting the broom away, I paused at the doorway to see if anything else felt like falling to a death, timely or otherwise. Nothing did, so I started walking.
There are times when walking to work feels like work, and times when it’s relaxing. Surprisingly enough, today was one of the latter times. Each step was effortless. The sidewalk seemed to be flowing underneath me. At 5:30 in the morning, I consider anything feeling effortless to be a miracle.
About a third of the way through the trip, I realized that I forgot to pray that morning. So I flipped off my iPod and started to pray. I prayed for my wife, for my friends who are out of town for work, for my co-worker who’s dying of cancer, for my father and his struggles, and for a unity to it all. And by unity I mean a meaning or rhyme or reason or… I don’t know. I guess I want to someday look back at the whole mess, all the good parts and all the bad parts, and see a pattern. I want to see a grand scheme, a great plan, the work of a master’s hand.
And then I was done. Praying, not walking. I was still doing the walking thing, and that walking thing was carrying me over a trestle bridge. The bridge runs east-west over a small portion of the Puget Sound. As I walked over the bridge, I looked to the right and saw the Olympic mountains wearing their customary crown of clouds. There is a small pier on the left hand side of the bridge, and on one of the pilings of the pier was the bald eagle who sits there most mornings for sunrise. Behind me, the sun was rising.
When I started this post, I said I wanted to talk about a sunrise. That wasn’t completely true. What I really wanted to talk about was the moment that happened while the sun was rising. Have you ever seen a kite lying on the grass get lifted by the wind? It shakes a little, wobbles around, and if the right gust comes along, it lifts into the sky. That’s what it felt like, emotionally anyway. One second I was just walking along, trying to figure out how the whole world works, and the next I was smiling uncontrollable, overwhelmed by the beauty around me.
This is what I saw in that moment: jagged mountains piercing clouds, a bald eagle taking flight, waves dancing in the morning light, a burning orange sky announcing the coming of the sun, the cool air filling my lungs, and the steady rhythm of my stride as I let miles of sidewalk slide beneath me. All of it hit me all at once… and I was undone.
I wanted to see what it all meant. I wanted to see the whole picture. I didn’t get to see it. What I got instead was a moment, a glimpse at something beautiful. It was the comforting hug of a parent for a hurting child, the supporting smile of a loving spouse, the firm handshake of a good friend saying, “I’ll be there for you.”
I’m beginning to think that I won’t ever understand it all. I’m beginning to think that, all things considered, that’s okay.
*My theory is that the person setting up the standard work schedule for my place of employment is an insomniac who wants everyone else to suffer too.
**This fact makes me dislike daylight savings time with a passion. Just when my commute starts to get pleasant, that whole “spring forward” thing leaves me in the dark again. Please, don’t cry for my suffering.
But I’m not going to write about any of that.
Today, I want to write about a sunrise.
I walked to work today. I do that off and on in an attempt to stay in shape. It’s a three mile walk, and that’s enough to warm me up for the day without leaving me too exhausted to work. The company I work for has ridiculous hours.* The reason that fact is important is that during a good portion of the year, my walk to work is done in the half-light of street lights.** During the summer months, I get to walk to work in real, honest-to-goodness sunlight.
As I walked out of my apartment this morning, I flipped on my iPod and then watched the glass shroud of the porch light fall to its untimely death for no apparent reason. Feeling unjustly imposed upon by the universe, I grabbed my broom and cleaned up the mess. After putting the broom away, I paused at the doorway to see if anything else felt like falling to a death, timely or otherwise. Nothing did, so I started walking.
There are times when walking to work feels like work, and times when it’s relaxing. Surprisingly enough, today was one of the latter times. Each step was effortless. The sidewalk seemed to be flowing underneath me. At 5:30 in the morning, I consider anything feeling effortless to be a miracle.
About a third of the way through the trip, I realized that I forgot to pray that morning. So I flipped off my iPod and started to pray. I prayed for my wife, for my friends who are out of town for work, for my co-worker who’s dying of cancer, for my father and his struggles, and for a unity to it all. And by unity I mean a meaning or rhyme or reason or… I don’t know. I guess I want to someday look back at the whole mess, all the good parts and all the bad parts, and see a pattern. I want to see a grand scheme, a great plan, the work of a master’s hand.
And then I was done. Praying, not walking. I was still doing the walking thing, and that walking thing was carrying me over a trestle bridge. The bridge runs east-west over a small portion of the Puget Sound. As I walked over the bridge, I looked to the right and saw the Olympic mountains wearing their customary crown of clouds. There is a small pier on the left hand side of the bridge, and on one of the pilings of the pier was the bald eagle who sits there most mornings for sunrise. Behind me, the sun was rising.
When I started this post, I said I wanted to talk about a sunrise. That wasn’t completely true. What I really wanted to talk about was the moment that happened while the sun was rising. Have you ever seen a kite lying on the grass get lifted by the wind? It shakes a little, wobbles around, and if the right gust comes along, it lifts into the sky. That’s what it felt like, emotionally anyway. One second I was just walking along, trying to figure out how the whole world works, and the next I was smiling uncontrollable, overwhelmed by the beauty around me.
This is what I saw in that moment: jagged mountains piercing clouds, a bald eagle taking flight, waves dancing in the morning light, a burning orange sky announcing the coming of the sun, the cool air filling my lungs, and the steady rhythm of my stride as I let miles of sidewalk slide beneath me. All of it hit me all at once… and I was undone.
I wanted to see what it all meant. I wanted to see the whole picture. I didn’t get to see it. What I got instead was a moment, a glimpse at something beautiful. It was the comforting hug of a parent for a hurting child, the supporting smile of a loving spouse, the firm handshake of a good friend saying, “I’ll be there for you.”
I’m beginning to think that I won’t ever understand it all. I’m beginning to think that, all things considered, that’s okay.
*My theory is that the person setting up the standard work schedule for my place of employment is an insomniac who wants everyone else to suffer too.
**This fact makes me dislike daylight savings time with a passion. Just when my commute starts to get pleasant, that whole “spring forward” thing leaves me in the dark again. Please, don’t cry for my suffering.
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