Praying with the Dawn

The Psalmist cries, "O God, Thou art my God! Early will I seek Thee." And so while it's still dark, I pull my protesting legs out from under the warm sheets, slip my cold feet into my fuzzy slippers, and before heading out to my "Garden Enclosed," pour myself the first cup of morning coffee.

And as if the rising steam knows the way to my Father's throne, it hears my heart's cry and carries my prayers heavenward.

I'm at home here.