THE faraway glint of an approaching dawn, softening of black darkness, the first bold enthusiastic shaft of light lighting up a room, herald a new day. And of course, the first caw from an early rising crow, followed by the soft, then louder cacophony of twittering sparrows, all announce to a still sleeping world the arrival of a brand new morning!
And then we hear Cat Stevens the singer, softly strumming his guitar and lending voice to words that remind us how grateful we should be for a new morning: Morning has broken like the first morning, Blackbird has spoken like the first bird, Praise for the singing, praise for the morning, Praise for them springing fresh from the world
And even as our faces light with pleasure, even as we are grateful for each new day that we have been given, even as we all praise our creator for the beauty of creating a colourful sunrise, hush do you hear in different pockets of the world, moans and groans as the day breaks on those who had drawn comfort from the cold cruel blackness of the night.
The hungry child, stomach racked by hunger pangs, but soothed by the darkness of the night now looks at grinning sun, and remembers those same stabs of hunger that were not satisfied the night before, cries softly again, then starts an unceasing moaning as his mother sadly looks at sleeping husband suffering from yesterday’s fever and knows that no food is on it’s way, with no money to buy any.
She stares into the distance. “It’s a new day!” says the sun silently. And, as if the sun has inspired her, she leaps out of bed, startling her little child, and with baby in her arms, runs away from her makeshift hut and meets the man who sells toys in the shop down her road, “Let me sell your toys,” she says to the sleepy proprietor.
“Deposit?” he asks, and she with ready smile, places her hungry baby on his lap, scampers with a set of colouring books, and as motorists halt at nearby signal, sells them one after the other, and runs back to the happy shop owner, who offers her more such items for her to sell. “I’ll come back!” she says, picks up her baby, buys eggs and bread with the money she’s made and runs to her hut, to make breakfast for her starving family.
Suddenly, a new morning has brought hope into her life. She winks at the sun as the eggs fry, then notices as her husband stirs that he looks better. She smiles as the sparrows, and other birds sing together in unison, Morning has broken like the first morning, Bringing in hope and joy into play. Praise with elation, praise every morning, God’s re-creation of the new day..!
—Email: bobsbanter@gmail.com
