Moments that matter

Once again, I find myself wondering if I will ever catch up on documenting things I wanted to get in print from the past year. I started writing about the trip I took with my sister to visit The Pioneer Woman's Mercantile in Pawhuska in early June, but I didn't finish it or post it.

I could write several fine essays about the trip to upstate New York. But have I? No. And now I could add a trip to a Florida beach and interesting adventures with trolleys and rain forests and trash in the sand. Will I? It's looking more and more doubtful.

The moments and experiences keep coming, and the words I would like to write to supplement my shaky memory don't make it to the page.

Where would I even begin?

Just for today, I will write about the beauty of a sunrise.

I've seen some nice sunsets on my travels this summer, although, truth be told, the beauty was more about the reflection on the water of the St. Lawrence River or Gulf of Mexico than the colors in the New York/Canada or Florida sky. I have a hard time getting up in time to savor the sunrise, and the balcony view from our beach hotel was to the west rather than the east.

But this morning, I happened to have the alarm set for 7 a.m. and actually got up. Then I got dressed to go to the gym with my husband. The gym is less than two miles from our house, but about three-quarters of a mile of the drive is heading east. And I was treated to a glorious burst of colors in that eastern sky.

As I try to think of how to describe it, I regret not taking a picture. But a picture would not have done justice. A picture would have had all the distractions -- the power poles, the traffic lights, cars, buildings.

In my memory, I see only rose and amber and peach and golden rays backed by a lustrous blue sky, with foreground accents of nature's green grass, maybe some flowers and the wood and leaves of trees. I see God's handiwork, and I feel grateful for the gift of a sunrise, the decision to get up and dressed, and the eyes to see the beauty.

In less than a minute, we turned the corner. Someone had tossed a fast-food bag with remnants of breakfast and packaging in the parking space next to ours. I picked it up and carried it to a trash can. Then I had my best workout in maybe forever.

Little things matter. It all adds up. Hope springs eternal. Just for today.