The other morning, I was sitting in the spare room, looking out at a dark and brooding Wasatch Front. Dawn was there, its brightness masked and cowled by cruel clouds. My heart darkened with foreboding, as if the morning would be choked out and yet another day of gray would be hunched over us.
With my confidence as high as a chopped down tree, I turned to begin my day. But then a beautiful melody came through our not-very-sound-sealed windows.
A single robin song sang into the graying dark. Innocent, sweet and completely disregarding all around it. And with that, the sunlight burst through, huge golden shafts splintered errant gray, darkness fled, burned right from the sky.
Life seemed to finally unfreeze from winter and every bird outside burst into song.
I felt like singing. I think God was teaching me something.