You're Beautiful

I see Your face in every sunrise

The colors of the morning are inside Your eyes

The world awakens in the light of the day

I look up to the sky and say,

'You're beautiful'

(Written by Phil Wickham)

I woke early this morning, did all the stumble in morning stuff and put my phone on the charger as it was at 6%. I started to sit down and rest until my alarm went off, but though I had worked until about midnight 30, I wasn't really tired or sleepy at 5:15. So I did some picking up and a bit of cleaning -only a bit- in the sunroom before I saw the early maroon and orange gracing the eastern horizon.

Dawn is my favorite!- not the dish soap, the time of day. My buddy was ready to go out with me into the early twilight of the pre-dawn. I laughed at his antics as it's been some time since we've been out together at the birth of day. He's a pup at dawn, without restraint or reason, just a joyful pup. Perhaps he caught it from his owner. The air was sweet and light. Slight breezes turned off and on and little wisps of cloud played with the horizon and the moon which was still bright.

Watching the eastern horizon develop, I busied myself cutting wisteria tendrils and picking up the deck. I dispersed what rainwater was still around to the flowers and herbs there. A lone mocking bird cried to the coming sun. The other birds were probably saying “Hey, friend, keep it down. Nobody should be that loud before the sun gets up.” But not me. I relished his song as I relished the increasing color in the east. Normally I have a camera in hand, or my phone, and I busy myself documenting the event. But today, my hands and mind sought other business. I left those behind on purpose today. I wanted to see with the heart instead. I wanted to experience the moment instead of recording it.

I spied a tube of bubbles left on the deck the last time my grandson was there and picked it up with the abandon and joy of a child. As I blew the first string of bubbles from the wand, the breeze caught them and lifted them high above the yard below and into the trees. A few made it all the way past the trees until they were barely visible before they dried out enough to pop without touching anything. I walked up to the observation deck and blew the bubbles off the bridge and deck. The colors were amazing as the dawn reflected in the floating soap. The light of the moon mixed through a couple of larger ones. It was exhilarating. I began experimenting.

The warm air coming off the pool held the larger bubbles in suspension for a moment or two. It actually lifted some of the smaller ones back skyward until they floated away into the lower yard. When they reached the pool water, instead of breaking, they actually bounced across the surface a few times before they popped. I was fascinated. The trees and Arvest tower reflected in their swirling color and I could sometimes even see my own form and face.

I climbed to the top of the lighthouse thinking I could watch them drift across the hill and downward. The dynamics were different there, however and the bulk of them floated into the trees and broke fairly quickly. But I stood there surveying my little world with a nice breeze on my face. The color in the east was almost golden now.

I hurried back down to the pool deck to experience the play of the bubbles with the warmth of the water. I was a child calling out to my Father: “I see your face in every sunrise; the colors of the morning are within your eyes. . . . . . . Oh, you're beautiful.” Jesus said “Let the little children come to me.” and “Except you come like a little child comes. . . .” I felt that this morning. I believe the Father put the bubble wand in my hand and I think he enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed his this morning.