“Your righteousness, O God, reaches the high heavens. You who have done great things, O God, who is like you?” (Psalm 71:19)

Father, I can barely place pen to paper this morning with the distractions around me on this first day away from my regular routines. A tiny, chirping finch is perched on the balcony pretending to be a virtuoso performing a sunrise sonata. The palm branches are waving furiously, extending their reach across my view in the way a banner announces an important upcoming event. Above me clouds are flinging themselves fast, scurrying across the sky, daring me to catch a glimpse of blue between their white-powdery shoes.

In the distance waves are charging over boulders, crashing, receding, then returning for an encore to slam against the rocky terrain. Breezes filter through the almond trees causing the branches to perform a rustling, shimmering dance. Noisy roosters strut about as if they are managers supervising and categorically organizing the entire landscape.

From my limited perspective it appears that each part of your creation is engaged in bringing you glory. Each twitter and rustle and crash is an instrument in your elaborate morning symphony. Waves slapping shoreline, birds harmonizing in song, leaves speaking the language of whipping-wind – each one doing their part to wake the day with their startling style of music.

Cover me this day the way the ocean water lavishes itself across the coastline. Saturate my mind in the measure that the tide soaks the sand. I hear the water’s rhythmic, ceaseless pace as reminder of the commanding, endless presence you should have in my day.

I hope my own soul can belt out worship at full throttle the way my feathered friends have displayed today. I pray that the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart will be as pleasant to you as the morning has been to my eyes and my ears.

“But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more. My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is past my knowledge” (Psalm 71:14-15).

Elizabeth A. Mitchell