Is this why it’s called beauty sleep? Because this is what I do: I sleep straight through beauty.
My Maker has gone to the effort of decorating the world outside my front door — hanging fog like ornaments, painting masterpiece skies, adorning each small leaf with morning dew. Yet, all I see are the insides of my eyelids.
The world trumpets God’s beauty, and I am asleep.
Even when I awake, I wonder, do I really see it? Or am I seeing the world through half-closed eyes?
The other morning, before the girls woke up, I set the alarm one hour early. I wanted to see a September morning. To really see it.
I grabbed the Nikon and slipped out the door, into a world still wrapped in a duvet of darkness. I traced country roads; gravel kicking up dust and crackling underneath.
I watched the miracle: the Earth waking up, the sun pushing back the covers — a simple act done every day in the most extraordinary way.
And it is done in complete silence. This gigantic ball called Earth is hurtling through the galaxy. Spinning, spinning. Yet it makes not a sound.
“… God’s great wheels revolve without noise or friction: all the Divine work is simply, easily, and beautifully managed.”
— Charles Spurgeon
And when I am asleep — or not fully awake — I miss beauty, rolled out silently in the God Gallery. Here’s what I’ve been missing:
“I always open mine (eyes) as wide as ever I can,
because I think I can see God
in all the works of his hands,
and what God has taken the trouble to make
I think I ought to take the trouble to look at.”
– Charles Spurgeon
Writing in community with Jen and Michelle today.