The sky was wispy pink this morning.
With cirrocumulus clouds stretched out over an early sky and a cold chill in the early-bird air....
....the oldest and I had to run out the door for a good long look.....
....because seeing spectacles through the lens of a window just often times won't do.
The colors and majesty that arched over the atmosphere were thrilling.
Noticing the beauty of a sunrise is a grand way to start the day, yes?
There's such a quiet miraculousness to it.
The sun doesn't make a sound as it ascends and begins to shine. It doesn't shout to all that it's about to light up the next 12 or so hours. There's no announcement or attention drawn.
It just comes up and does it's gleaming.
Motherhood is a bit like that.
Here in the home - there's no applause or accolade or congratulations. It's all unseen. The work, the repetitive, the grind - it's all hidden here within these walls.
...it's also hidden in tiny hearts.
Hearts that belong to three blonde birdies that will leave this nest one day - and pour out to the world the things that have been stored in the very crevices of their character.
The things I pour into them - might not be noticed now - but they will leak out eventually.
The same is true in pastorhood -
- those men and women who sink low, and deflect praise, and tend to the downtrodden, and fill cups and offer out Hope.
In our day though - it seems as if it's almost swanky to be a minister. For many, it's become a very public thing. An external thing....loud and opinionated and frugal.
This scares me. Not just for pastors, but for everyone.
Because when all our works and toils and offering become fodder for the masses - when we end up being compensated for every sacrifice - when we let our goodness go viral...we run the risk of letting that worldly attention be our only reward.
Pity us if this is so.
But those works and actions and loves that are done in the secret - in the humble hush of the obscure - ah, a heavenly reward awaits for them.
Christine Cain calls this living in the dark room.
Like those photographs of old that had to be processed in the dim - are we, as we torque and spin in our love labor everyday.
While there certainly can be seasons where our works will be seen by others (to glorify God alone) - the most serious and worthwhile things we do - take place in the lackluster shadows.
But yes - like birds leaving the nest and cups running over and ripples rolling, reaching - the love and sweat and time and attention that comes forth from us in the dusk....
...will leak out into the day... at some point - in some way - through someone.
The skies have darkened over now. A blanket of white hovers high.... and rain seems imminent.
But the sun - it's still doing it's duty...
even behind a widespread curtain of clouds.