Lessons from the Sun

As a child, I use to wake up around 5:50 AM. Go into my mom’s room (which as a black child is always a risk) and gently tap her to ask if I could go downstairs to watch “Winnie the Pooh” which came on at 6 AM. The answer was always yes. Growing up, we moved around a lot and attend schools, not in our district which at times called for an early bus ride. I have always been intrigued by the morning. There’s a sense of excitement when you are up before the majority of people.

It was a sense of excitement that prompted me to see a sunrise on July 15th, 2020 to mark the half-way point of my fellowship. I wanted to find a way to celebrate. What better way to celebrate an anniversary than with watching the sunrise, the sun ushering in a new day, a new year. That first time was an experience. I have never seen the sun rise over the Raleigh skyline like that. Ever since then, once a week I go catch the sunrise at Dorothea Dix Park, one of my favorite places (maybe I’ll write about why later) and it has become a nice ritual, especially during this pandemic.

While watching a new day begin, I have learned some things over the past few months:

I have learned a lot about faith. Lots of time God speaks in the quiet. 1 Kings 19:11–13

“The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came to a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here Elijah?”

I have not experienced a fire or earthquake while waiting for the sunrise but the day before may have been a rough day or I might have had a bad dream. I watch the birds fly and I think of the passage in Matthew that says “Don’t worry for the birds don’t know what the day would bring.” Some days as I am sitting out there, I feel a slight breeze or a calming sensation and I can’t help but think it’s God telling me “Kenneth, you’re doing fine.”

We’re out here in the winter too…I have moved to sitting in the trunk of my car though.

I have learned about stillness because there’s not much to do at 5:30 in the morning.” A good friend told me that “In Stillness, Comes Revelation.” I’ve been trying to practice stillness, not to try to get a revelation but to understand that in stillness also comes rest and reflection, which could lead to a revelation. I am constantly reminded of rest and how I need to do it. I am understanding that resting is more than just sleeping or doing nothing. I have left the park many times feeling energized and ready to begin the day but that has probably been because of the peace that I have felt.

During my most hectic weeks, the sunrise has been a welcome respite. There have been many moments where I have just forgotten about the outside world and the things that I have to do. Some days I don’t want to leave because I am so encapsulated by the feeling of peace.

I have learned about my own mortality. While watching “The Good Place” and learning to understand my faith/salvation, I have become keenly aware that death is a thing and it’ll be something we all will face. I am aware that one day, I’ll run out of tomorrow’s but each day, especially my sunrise days, I count is an extraordinary blessing. It’s a gift to attempt to right the wrongs of the days past. It’s an opportunity to move forward in some things. Essentially, it’s another chance.

But most times I sit there and just look around. I look at the growing skyline and think about my growth. I close my eyes and count my blessings: my sight, my smell, my taste, my touch, my ears, my health. I look up at the fading stars, and I just sit there in silence, listening to a new day begin.

Sometimes, I listen to Dr. Maya Angelou’s poem from President’s Clinton’s inauguration titled “On the Pulse of The Morning” and I sit with those words especially the last stanza:

“Here, on the pulse of this new day

You may have the grace to look up and out

And into your sister’s eyes, and into

Your brother’s face, your country

And say simply

Very simply

With hope —

Good morning.”