And we are put on earth a little space, that we may learn to bear the beams of love . . . - William Blake
I crept from the covers early and pulled on socks before slipping down to where the dog waited, barking, in the cold kitchen. He danced and wiggled, whining with excitement as I reached to flip the coffee pot on.
Then I searched for boots and slipped on my husband’s old down coat, wool mittens and a hat. I took the quarter cup of coffee that was brewed and carried it with me as the dog charged out the door.
It was four degrees and windy. The sky was pearly gray and a golden sliver of moon hung, a bright pendant suspended on the sky’s ivory neck.
The dog was so happy, running full-out, then turning back to me, squatting and jumping at my feet as I played at stealing his toy. “Good boy! Good boy!” I called, coffee sloshing in my cup. I danced and called in my polka-dot pajama pants as the wind cut through the thin flannel without reserve and cars sped by.
Winter transforms the field across the street into the illusion of an ice-covered lake. The wind rushes across, smoothing the surface, like water wearing away at stone. Once back inside, I curled on the couch with a fuller cup of coffee, looking out over the “lake” as the sun continued to rise.
The sun rises in the east and sets in the west and here, in my wide south-facing window, I’m party to them both - the light that begins the day and that which ends it; the sun continuing its faithful rounds regardless of my attention.
The birds were singing this morning.
Even at four degrees with incredible whipping bursts of wind, the birds are singing spring as though they also spied the small green shoots of crocus peeking out beneath a barren shrub.
The moon hangs shining.
The dog runs, exuberant.
The sun rises.
The birds sing.
The spring shoots peek.
The wind wears away at the world like water on stone.
I stand among it all and the wonder, the shinning and rising, the singing, is almost too much to bear.
* * *
Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.
What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God?
That's my proposal - that we might gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days.
You're invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a small moment of wonder. Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.
(The linky was a little delayed this morning - please don't miss the couple of people who linked in the comments section!)