I stumbled out of bed at 6:30 AM, and into an amazing sight outside the big windows of our living room. All the buildings were glowing. A pinkish hue reflecting off everything I could see. I could not see the sun rising in the east, but its effects were bathing my senses in an incredible light. I paused a moment and then took up my journal to begin my morning pages. I wrote a sentence and looked up. Things weren't quite as beautiful now. Not as vibrant. I looked down again to write another sentence, and when I turned back, the incredible glow was gone.
I missed it! I didn't enjoy it to its fullest while it was here! I was actually saddened by the changing of the light. The reflection of the sunrise on the city around me made me feel inadequate in my ability to observe the beauty of the universe. It was an instinctual, human emotional reaction to the disappearance of beauty, but it doesn't make sense to be upset at the sun for not hanging at just the right angle for longer than it does. A few moments later, a different set of shades caught my eye. Stuck by the variety of colors we choose to paint the concrete structures we live in, I realized the beauty of the physical world hadn't gone away. It had simply morphed. The blues and whites replaced the red and pink, but it was still beautiful. God was still there.
So like life itself was that one moment. The sunrise of youth replaced by a cloudy adulthood. One moment may glow in different ways, but all of its beautiful.