My body protests the early hour but the light is beautiful, so I grab an old denim jacket, stick my feet into clogs, and venture outside to greet the unfolding day. The complete stillness, unbroken except by occasional bird song, wraps itself around me. “Breathe,” a voice whispers, “and look–see this newborn day which I have created for you.” I stand spellbound, awed by the miracle. Ribbons of color lace the sky and the rising sun lays down a sheet of hammered gold on the pond. It lasts minutes only before the radiance mellows into regular daylight . . . and that seems fitting. One can only gaze but briefly upon the face of God.