I’m awake; the stillness of the mountains is a gift before the dawn breaks. I have coffee in one hand, and a pen in the other. I am poised and ready like a dog alert and waiting for his master’s command.
I wait. I’m not sure for what.
You open your mouth, as if to orate, and I inhale a breath in anticipation. Then you close it and I’ look away, deflated as the breath lets go.
Did you see the beauty of the mountains, the magnitude of their size on your drive? Yes, Lord, I say. No, he says, did you really see, not just look with your eyes but see in your Spirit that I created this with a word? Your son could see it. Did you?
I feel rebuked. Teach me, Father.
Yes, my child, I will teach you. I will teach you to see by the Spirit.
Thank you, Lord, I say, happy and at peace.