It's too early for the chortling of magpies, the cawing of crows, the kookaburras laugh, and the raucous calling of various cockatoos.
Our pet bird, a galah we named Buster, is still asleep on his perch. I see his shadowy outline in his cage on the veranda to the left of my window.
It's been strange the last two weeks rising at 4 a.m. to sleepily see my husband off to work in Melbourne. We have 30 minutes to chat, read a chapter of the Bible, he with his tea and organic plain yogurt, and me with my instant caramel-flavored cappuccino. His job takes him all over our state, Victoria, and for two weeks he has left early to beat the three-hour congestion of commuters entering the city of a million or so people. I have found that I rather like the quiet, dark, morning hours after he leaves. It feels like everyone is asleep except for me.
It gives me time to ponder. I think about my son and his wife, my daughter and brand-new granddaughter I only saw for a few brief weeks in December, my closest friend Cheri, my dad and step-mom, my sisters, my brothers, my nieces and nephews; and I ponder how is it that I ended up here, 10,000 miles and more away from them all.
Time flies, and yet it stretches on endlessly when one thinks of the future. I've been here a year and 56 days today. The reality of living the rest of my allotted time on earth in Australia is slowly sinking in. It gives me pause. But when I think of the way my life was before...mostly alone and with my life revolving around my job...and now, surrounded by the love and care of a good and Godly man with time to embrace the things I've always enjoyed such as pleasure writing, traveling, and keeping a good house with someone who appreciates that...it's worth it.
The sky is pearl grey now. The things that were shadows a few moments before have more definition. I can see details in the growing light that I didn't see before. I can now see the hanging flower baskets and bird feeders, and handmade toys in Buster's cage. The outline of the distant Snake Valley Hills is coming into focus.
Such is this life we live for the time we live it.
In our lifetime, there are periods of darkness. It may seem that the inky blanket may last forever. We wait for sunrise and it never comes. Then, ever so slowly, what was unseen comes into focus in a faint shadow. As the sun rises, images become clearer, and the smaller items come into view that were missed before. The bright hope of a new day rises in our spirit and we eagerly sit still and wait for that first ray of light...sure to come now. Darkness will not remain.
Some days, even though I am approaching the half-century mark, I feel as if I am in the sunrise of my life. Sort of like the legendary Phoenix that rises out of ruins and ashes. God has heard my cries for help in my desolation over the decades, and has had mercy on me. I've been given "another go" as Australians say. What favor He has shown me. What mercy is this?
I think of Jeremiah writing the book of Lamentations. His heart was devastated and sore with the sin of his fellowman against God, and that they refused to listen to His warnings. He watched as God's people were lead into captivity because of their stiff-necked rebellion and adultery to the Husband who loved them. And yet he could say this, and I join my voice to his ancient one: "I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. [His mercies] are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." Lamentations 3:19-23.
I am contentedly His, watching the sun rise in my life, and on this Australia morning, am grateful for His mercy.
Heidi
I see youre adapting to the world of blog. its adicting indeed. I enjoyed reading your posts. I forget how clearly you write, eloquent finesse, etching images in my mind. looking forward to seeing more!love you, Jason
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