Opening to the Spirit

Today’s Word: Dawn

)It's dawn. Sun rises and spreads like a golden egg yolk along the horizon. First a thin line, it rapidly thickens, flows in changing waves of gold and orange. Mornings like this one the clouds are tinted with the merest suggestion of mauve and violet, even green. The cosmic bonfire smolders slowly, gathers intensity, then flares up behind the trees. I watch spellbound as the sky like a giant palette keeps changing, mixes and revises gradations of colour until slowly it all begins to fade, trailing a few faint streaks of yellow and rose.

How long from start to finish does a sunrise last? For a few minutes in the presence of dawn, I easily lose track of time. Most mornings I wake from sleep to the day blazing awake outside my eastfacing window. In summer I may rush downstairs, press the coffee button and stand out on the deck for the day's debut performance. As the snow flies, I need not even rise to the occasion. To keep this appointment I need only feel the light and open my eyes.

Last night I set the alarm to be sure to wake at sunrise this morning so I could write this. Like a sportscaster's commentary in the heat of the game, I wanted to give you an on site, fresh from the stands, play-by-play account. Yet again today's dawn reminds me - words are hardly enough to paint the picture. You have to be there! And it happens every day, whether I see it or not.

"Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun the heaped ashes of the night turn into leaves again…" These lines memorized from a Mary Oliver poem end, you might guess, in prayer. Which is always where dawn leaves me. Aren't you in total awe and wonder at a universe designed to welcome each new day with such unimaginable glory? Dawn - always new. I've been a fan for decades and never a repeat performance! It's the light show that keeps on playing, and we're all invited - tickets gratuit! Next performance: tomorrow. Hope you can make it!

) Joy comes with the dawn. That’s the title of a familiar hymn in our church.

But dawn does not always show up twenty-four hours after the last one.

Sometimes the night seems to go on interminably. We resign ourselves to sitting in the dark. What’s the point in fighting the inevitable? Sea levels are rising. Plastic is choking our oceans. Elections come and go, but the voice of the people is seldom heard except hopefully on voting day. In my darker moments I just want to give up and sit watching my favourite sitcom and eating Heavenly Hash ice cream.

Then suddenly, out of the blue and through no effort on my part, the hint of a new dawn comes along. Anything seems possible and joy suddenly is mine. The older I get the more admiration I hold for the indomitable spirit that lies inside each of us. Out of the ashes new life springs forth. Resurrection is possible no matter how dark a cave we find ourselves in. And joy, that quality that recognizes sorrow and suffering but is not subsumed by it, continues to spring unexpectedly upon us bringing us a marvelous new dawn.

So if you find yourself in a dark place today hold on to that thin thread that is called hope. In the psalms they tell us “Wait on the Lord. Wait on the Lord.” The dawn will come.

) One summer I worked the night shift at a pulp mill. From time to time my break would come just at dawn. I would climb the staircase outside beside a large chemical tower and watch the sun slowly rise over the mountainous horizon. A new day was beginning, full of new hope and possibilities. I've remembered that moment over the years when life seems darker. There is something mystical about dawn. It has provided inspiration for poets, prophets, and people of all ages. Perhaps that is why some of us spend Easter morning outdoors at sunrise services waiting for the sun to appear.

A friend of mine arrived in Canada as a refugee from Afghanistan in the early 80's. When I met him he was working with the IOM, International Organization for Migration, a United Nations effort. He helped other refugees from violent regions travel to safety. For example, he went back and forth from Bosnia accompanying victims of the war. He was close to getting his Canadian citizenship, but needed help to sponsor his mother and sister, also from Afghanistan and I became the official sponsor. His mother had been a University professor in the 70's, a more progressive time for that country. His sister was still in school. The day they arrived in Canada was like a new dawn breaking. Their lives were now full of hope and promise.

This broken world can be a brutal place. I remember a quote from Sojourners magazine, where a homeless man said, “Our days is darker than most folks nights”. Violence, fear, and evil are real. If there is anything we can do in Canadian society to bring about a new dawn let's do it, for anyone.

)As a spiritual practice, I once spent forty days alone in a log cabin. This cabin was in deep woods, surrounded by large, towering trees. This is where I first understood darkness. If the night was cloudy or the moon was new, I could see nothing without artificial light.

I remember the novelty of going to bed in total darkness and noticing, for the first time, that there was no difference at all whether my eyes were open or closed. The daytime was filled with sunshine and birds, wildflowers, berry picking, and rambling walks along old logging roads. There was a lake within walking distance, and I remember swims in the sunshine that went on for hours.

At night my world got very much smaller. The night was filled with total darkness and the sounds of scurrying mice and the occasional owl. There would often be power outages. Since my cell phone only had reception if I took a walk to the top of a nearby hill, and since I wanted to make sure that batteries lasted, there were many nights literally alone in the dark.

Waking before dawn in that situation did a lot to intensify my longing for light. The first thing to come faintly into view was the window. As the light gradually grew, the whole small room could be seen. Then, the whole world outside opened up and another day of sunshine began.

Life is like this: darkness and dawn, grieving and joy, loss and success. If you are in a dark place, know that this is a truth that you can trust: Dawn will come. Wait on the Lord, says the psalmist - more than sentinels wait for the dawn, more than sentinels wait for the dawn.

One word, four voices - now your turn to reflect: How do you greet the dawn of each new day?

Rev. Mead Baldwin pastors the Waterville & North Hatley pastoral charge; Rev. Lynn Dillabough is now Rector of St. Paul's in Brockville ON. She continues to write for this column as a dedicated colleague with the Eastern Townships clergy writing team; Rev. Lee Ann Hogle ministers to the Ayer’s Cliff, Magog & Georgeville United Churches; Rev. Carole Martignacco is Consulting Minister to UU Estrieunitarian Universalists in North Hatley.