The Edges of our Days

My family just returned from a trip to Maine over Labor Day weekend. We love it there for all manner of reasons that would be more than you’d want to read in my pastoral words (but if you ever want to talk about it in person, I’m so there). 

One thing you cannot miss when you’re in the Pine Tree State is a sunrise. Each year, thousands of people hike Cadillac Mountain to catch rays of the very first sunbeams each morning in the United States. Similarly, star gazing is not to be missed in Maine, or so my family discovered on our trip. One dark, cloudless night with hardly any light pollution on the mid-coast, we could see the Milky Way—its hazy curves like a paintbrush stroke across the sky. 

First thing in the morning. Last thing in the evening. The edges of the day. 

Growing up, I was taught to give God my firsts. My first thoughts. My first moments. My first words read each morning should be read straight from the Bible. It was all very prescriptive. God deserved my firsts and there was a right way and a wrong way to go about doing that.

And while a part of me still appreciates the good intentions passed down to me, I no longer see the value of my days based on whether I can fit in a bible study each morning.

On our trip to Maine, I let God have the first word of the day about my belovedness by aweing me with a sunrise. And God had the last word of the day when I stared in wonder at the night sky, and layers upon layers of stars. 

This too is prayer, I’m learning. 

Beginning and ending the day in the presence of God are ancient rhythms. In the Anglican tradition, morning and evening prayers are structured liturgies rooted in the Book of Common Prayer. Lutherans offer morning and evening blessings. Catholics pray the Liturgies of the Hours. And the Baptist church where I grew up encouraged morning devotion time. 

Whatever faith background you come from (or none at all), there is space for you and God at the edges of your day. 

Morning prayer says before I do anything, I belong to God. Evening prayer says after I did everything, or failed miserably trying, I still belong to God. 

We receive the day. We release the day. 

And sometimes a pink sunrise and a sky full of stars show us how. 

Thanks be to God for the edges of these days we get to live. 

Amen.