By Jan Penton Miller

Guest Columnist 

The magical moments just before dawn when everything is possible beckon me to awaken. I breathe in the quiet as the world slumbers. Sitting on my porch in the stillness I am transported once again to childhood and my grandparent’s old farmhouse.

The milk bucket clanged as my overall clad grandfather trekked to the barn in the waning darkness while Mamaw rolled out biscuits with flour from a colorful sack. Her faded apron kept the white stuff off her duster.

Mamaw and Papaw were hard workers and could afford to buy “store bought” clothes, but Mamaw kept her old Singer sewing machine whirling away creating flour sack fashions.

Mamaw loved to whistle. She did it often and very badly. Her whistles were not much more than air blowing through her teeth, but it was a comforting sound. It sounded like love.

My siblings, cousins, and I were often tucked into beds, sofa beds, and pallets in every nook and cranny of Mamaw and Papaw’s humble abode. The smell of bacon and sausage wafted through our nostrils as we dreamed a little longer. Roosters crowed their sweethearts awake and soon the chicken’s cackles joined the refrain.

The cool morning mist dampens my cotton gown. Night sounds abound as the world slowly awakens. A bullfrog croaks his morning message as the neighbor’s rooster joins in. An early bird twitters her song and awakens a dog down the street. No cars are yet passing. My world is still and calm.

A sliver of a moon peeks through the trees as darkness begins to fade. The security lights across the road shimmer their reflection in the pond.

Other songbirds in our woodland home awaken and warble a delightful melody. All creation sings their own tune their own way, and each is good. The birds sing because they must. They were made to sing.

A rusty old truck rumbles down the road as ebony skies fade to purple. Soon hounds awaken and every dog within five miles seems to be howling his own halleluiah chorus!

As I reflect on all the beautiful sounds of this lovely awakening I wonder why I fail to hear them as the day wears on. If I neglect to wake up a little early I miss these morning moments.

Just as surely as the skies hue lightens with the dawn my thoughts turn to activities of the busy day ahead. A hungry mosquito buzzes my ear searching for breakfast. I swat him away as my coffee grows cold.

Gently I am reminded. The sounds of creation can be heard when I am still and empty of my own agenda. When plans for my day or worries of the future enter my mind the sounds of nature are still there. I don’t hear them because my focus is on something else.

Truth slips into my consciousness, John 10:27 “My sheep know My voice and they follow Me”. Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I Am God”.