“My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, * more than watchmen for the morning.”
As I sit in darkness awaiting the morning light this verse often wanders into my mind. This morning as it came in I remembered actually serving as a watchman on the bridge of a destroyer. I was 17 and I had the watch before dawn. I was tired. I didn’t know what I should look for: anything other than water and sky. As I methodically moved my binoculars in a sweep back and forth on the horizon, I remember hoping that I would see nothing and, that I would be able to stay awake until the morning light. As the hours passed I found myself yearning deeply for the morning.
My prayer flies outward and upward, soaring on the morning wind as it stirs from sleep, growing as it catches and is caught by the prayers of others, waiting actively for the moment when the first hint of light bursts suddenly forth, and almost in an instant, darkness turns to day. May our prayers be a sign of our action that hope may be renewed each morning with the rising sun.