Grateful Heart Studio

I left my spinning (cycling) class at 6:30 this morning when a glowing sliver of moon still hung in the eastern sky.  A horizontal layer of fog wafted between the ground and the silhouetted skyline of winter bare trees.  The fields were dusted with frost, and the silver mirrored surface of the standing water in the ditches reflected the roses and lavender that lit up the horizon.  Hot pink and purple striations of clouds backlit the scattered trees and farmsteads anticipating the arrival of the sun. 

As I drove through this pastoral landscape, reveling in the quiet renaissance of a new day, I listened to a report on NPR about the rebel uprising and unrest in Tibet and the violence being meted out to peaceful Tibetan monks.  I am mindful of the need to be actively grateful for this place in which I live, while at the same time in constant prayer for those whose peace is being ripped and torn by ugliness and violence.  My thoughts pause in reflection and intercession.  

My cat, Rusty, was eagerly awaiting me on the porch as I drove up.  Who knows what nightly adventures he could recount if only he spoke English! A tuft of tawny Persian fur belies at least one feline altercation. He now sits in a lacy circle of light on the back of the couch in the sun room.  Annie, my 16-year-old dog, is frisking like a puppy on the front lawn, and the frost has turned into a field of diamonds in the rising sun.  Let me never take it for granted - such beauty - my heart cannot contain it all.