Creatio Continua

This morning, I awoke long before my roommates would even dream of it. 7:30am on a Sunday. And I went out for a run.

I wondered why I didn't start every day in the same way. As Dr. Marshall--a beloved and feared Theology professor at Aquinas College--once said, each morning is a miracle. We don't continue existing out of necessity, but because of grace; therefor, each day is a gift and a miracle. Creation is continuously renewing itself: Creatio Continua.

I saw this to be true when I laced by Asics tight and broke myself against the chilled air of dawn. Over puddled sidewalks, beneath fiery trees dripping leafy autumn flame. Tiny birds chirped and fluttered from my path like bits of flighty confetti. The baby blue sky was dotted with the V pattern of geese flying south, and below, the icy shreds of emerald grass crunched delicately, and glimmered.

At Reed's Lake, the trees crowding the East parted to reveal the marvel of morning beauty--the rising sun. Hallowed and heavenly, the flaming star rose brilliantly over the glass of the lake, casting it's celestial twin into an equal spectacle in reflection. Mirroring its creator, I could not look at its grandeur without destroying my human eyes; I was left to bask in its warmth radiating. Though I could not see the sun (or even its reflection) directly, I could look down into the water--still as a sheet of glass--and see the golden sunbeams sparkle through the mist, swirling and tumbling upon the icy surface. I felt then as if I was among the living clouds, gliding through the holy light that warmed my body and gave me peace.