This morning I was on the porch a little earlier than usual.
The sun had not yet crested the ridge to the east, so the thick trees and bushes and grasses were still shadowed and jade gray. No gold showed yet; no beams came in low through little openings in the crepe myrtle, oak leaf hydrangea, and Japanese maple.
I didn’t catch the first ray pouring its thin line on the grass. I only realized it had arrived because of the bird chorus. A thousand little throats, just doing what they were made to do, what they couldn’t help but do – herald the morning and its Creator. Such variety! Such depth and width. Such harmony.
Three kitten-cats chased each other through the greening dawn as if hired specifically to illustrate “Cat Siblings At Three Months.”
And I with my Bible and coffee, feet on the wicker table from my mother-in-law from her mother-in-law.
Thoughts lead to thoughts.
And I knew my friend Jill, whom I was meeting soon, was on her front porch with her Bible. And my mother was on her back deck with hers. And you were in your spot with yours.
And it hit me what a prayer-soaked hour that is when we are all doing the same thing. What a powerful hour! What praise and thanks are lifted up to God. What petitions are made for those we love, for those in pain, for those who don’t know Him and we long for.
That hour must sound to God’s ears as beautiful and harmonious as the bird chorus that heralds the suncrest over the ridge.
Lord, use the unified song from a thousand little throats
in the early morning
to do your mighty kingdom work!