This morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, the bright blue of the sky greeted me. I was surprised, as I often am, because I forget to read the weather report. I drank a cup of coffee and looked out the window at the light and shadows on the snow beneath the trees.

My heart was singing a song of thanks to God. I was reminded of Howard Thurman's wisdom:

“There must be always remaining in every life, some place for the singing of angels, some place for that which in itself is breathless and beautiful.”