Break Out The Windex

The sun rose across skies peppered with an array of well-placed clouds in Lake Park on the first day of January 2012. It was mesmerizing. I know because I watched it. If there’s one thing I hate to sleep through, it’s the sunrise. I’ll pass on late night celebrations any day in exchange for getting up in time to watch the morning arrive. After all, we only get one sunrise a day and each one is a quickly fleeting treasure. Even if I’m not watching the sun come up directly, I am drawn to the scenes it creates as it dances across walls and table tops and shines through glass, casting continually changing artwork across the rooms of my house as the hours and the seasons stroll by.

Part of the magic is watching the light turn my humble abode into a glowing golden mini-palace each day. Yes, I admit…I’m a morning person, but don’t worry, not the obnoxious kind who wakes up chipper and talkative or looking like I just came out of the salon…not by a long shot. I just hate the thought of missing the gift that comes with morning. I know my days are numbered, and so then, are the number of sunrises left to enjoy.

But with the first rays and the softly lit grand openings of new days and new years come the sometimes ugly tales told only to those who get up and keep watch. We are entrusted with the beauty, but then too the ugly secrets that beauty whispers behind her hand and sometimes even snickers about out loud when we become part of her inner circle. Whether we sunrise watchers are looking for all that we find as we await the mornings rays or whether we happen upon these sundry revelations quite unexpectedly…the truth is always there. We are, however, entrusted with what we either could not or would not see at any other time of day or by any other source of light. I guess we need the angle and the placement of the rays due to the earth’s rotation, and eyes willing to accept both the wonders and the not so pretty truths we’ll be shown. If not for being morning people, those of us who are would sleep through the  secret revelations just like night folks (and teens) do. Even so, we sometimes fumble through the morning while we’re up, distracted with other things and forget to really pay attention to the message being delivered by way of the grand flare of morning.

The kind of inspiration carried on the early rays throughout the years have been too numerous to mention, however, one message they rather rudely sent to me yesterday might have some relevance.

Facing Ugly Truths

You’ve heard it said, no doubt, that sunshine is the best disinfectant. It may not always DO the cleaning but it sure can point out what needs it when its angle is just so and glass furniture is placed within its illuminating path. Then at just such a moment as we happen by, we often see a truth we desperately needed to know but were otherwise blind to.

Thanks to the fact that I changed the furniture around in my family room, and because the sun sneaks in back there on winter mornings, the sunshine sent me one such message yesterday; it told me in no uncertain terms I had committed a crime of omission. The dust build-up on my little glass table, despite having just been washed within the week, looked like it had been the recipient of a lovely snowfall, unfortunately, it was the fall of dust particles. Like a suspect under an interrogation lamp in the path of the brilliant morning, the table was ratting me out.

How rude of the light to point out something so untoward. I might be tempted to  say, “Be nice,” and then turn my back on “morning” for not being “positive”, and shut it out, drawing the curtains tightly closed so as to keep the sunlight’s nosey rays away from the dirt, and my shortcomings… but I wouldn’t be doing myself any favor. You see, I need the sunlight’s glaring eye as much as I enjoy it’s golden glow. The glow is the beauty I enjoy… the inspiration I forgo late night parties for and wake up early for and find myself mesmerized by. The glaring reality check it shoves in my face is the truth like that of a friend who might tell us we have something in our teeth before we go off smiling unaware into a business presentation.

I do get really irritated with the sunlight showing off its brilliance on my tabletop and lighting up the fact that I always have work to do. By golly, I hate washing and drying that table, but I sure do like the result, because then I get to see the morning light at it’s best, glistening with a smile of approval. If the sun hadn’t come blazing in (all mean and hurtful) and told me what a poor job I was doing at keeping up the place, I would go on thinking all was well, only to be caught in a fateful allergy attack later or embarrassed when my friends next stopped by for morning coffee. I would also miss out on the sun’s best early morning show, because that tabletop is one of the stages it dances across. So I cleaned the table, and the show lit up with a new brilliance. The nasty truth was a pain in the butt, but thanks to the not so nice truth of the sunlight, I now reap the benefit. So it goes. Sometimes the most positive thing we can hear is a negative.

The truth hurts, and sunshine does make a great disinfectant. Let’s remember that going into 2012. We could use some of that beautiful and telling light to come in and shine across what has been hidden right out in the open for far too long in Lake Park. We merely need the necessary light to shine in at just the right angle to make obvious what has gone unnoticed. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to break out the flashlights or a few of those 100 watt incandescent bulbs that were almost snatched away from us, just to make sure we aren’t missing anything. If we want this place to shine again, we’ll have to face any ugly truths and do the hard work of cleaning up. The trickier part will be to keep it clean. If we think that the dirt won’t be back in a heartbeat, we deceive ourselves. One need only to see my glass table the day after I clean it to learn that lesson.

It’s a constant chore, but worth the effort. After all, there are tales to be told, both good and bad, and when the sun shines in, they will most certainly come to light.

So break out the windex; we have work to do.

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