It is dawn. My cup of coffee is hot and gingerly rolls down my throat a smooth nutty brown. I’ve just finished showing my oldest daughter Mary Inger some new chords on the guitar (she woke up before sunrise to have some alone time with me), and now I’m staring out the immense window of my basement with nothing but the smell of java and the activity of wildlife greeting one of our first warm spring days. I can hear heaven in these simple sounds.
Squirrels scurry up trees, deer meander down the gully below, a mysterious coyote runs and cries through the woods to hide from the breaking day as a woodpecker pecks and birds sing. The trees are lit by the rising sun and the first colors of dawn are rich and vibrant, almost hyper-real. When you can hear heaven, life just makes sense.
I am reminded of a classic Thomas Merton phrase:
“The rain ceases, and a bird’s clear song suddenly announces the difference between heaven and hell.”
Looking ahead at my day, I focus on clarity and simplicity. What is important, what is necessary, what things will lead me to that quiet place where we are allowed glimpses of heaven.
Making my way up the stairs, the rest of the children are still asleep and if I stand still by their bedrooms I can hear their breathing. It too is a song, another glimpse of heaven. In the quiet I thank God and the burdens of the day already seem much lighter.
Our lives can get so hectic and busy we quit making time to listen. Listening to creation is a prayer, and it is here we can see, hear, and feel the heartbeat of God. And we needn’t escape to a park or go on some long, expensive trip. It can be right where you live, early in the morning, making time to just listen to those people and things you love as the world is waking up.
Thomas Merton’s bird sings, “Wake up.” May we all listen.
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