EARLIER THIS WEEK I made a call to a friend for whom I had a question. Our business finished, we chatted a bit about this and that when she said, “Guess what I have here in front of me.” I could not imagine. “A paper tacked up at my desk,” she said, “that reminds me: Every day brings with it the opportunity to be surprised.“

I smiled big and wide, long and deep.

“You know where that comes from?” she went on. There was delight in her voice.

“I do,” I said. “It’s from my novel. Elizabeth’s prayer. The day Ben Grubb—unexpectedly—shows up at the farm.”

UNTIL THAT CALL WEDNESDAY, I hadn’t thought about that line in months. Then it came to me again in the wee hours this morning when very early I awoke, could not get back to sleep, and finally just got up to start my day in the night’s remaining dark. We’ve spent this week at our getaway in Western North Carolina, and as I took those first glorious sips of coffee and settled into a comfy chair, my current read in hand—off to the side, something caught my eye. I turned right and glanced through the sliding glass doors to the broad Black Mountains, where now I saw the tiniest sliver of light rising from behind and seeming to hover just above the peak we know as Mt. Gibbs.

This was odd, it being somewhere around 6am—far too early for even the slightest hint at sunrise, which at this altitude would not occur for at least another hour and fifteen. I put down my book, got up from my seat, and stepped toward the light, eager for a closer look.

I pulled open the heavy sliders. Lordy but it was dark on that deck. I stood for a moment, part way in, part way out, deciding whether or not I actually wanted to venture further. (To be honest, giving this small act so much consideration is rather silly but I will say there are lots of creatures big and small who night-wander on this remote mountain.) As I debated, sure enough the light continued to rise and now I could see that the illumination was a crescent, ever-so-thin and positioned with its edges up, like a smile.

This most certainly was not the daily heralding of morning.

My need to investigate overtook my inclination to stay, so I stepped out and cautiously crossed the deck. Enough time had passed that when I reached the edge, the very faint shape was above the ridge but now I could see it, fully formed: This was the moon (!) rising behind the mountains, the thin crescent lit by a sun still far below.

I stood and watched in wonder. How thrilling was this morning moonrise! How happy was I that I’d woken up early, gotten up early, how delighted that I’d been awake and aware and was rewarded with the privilege of standing in witness to this most natural—granted—and yet most unexpected sight.

We are grateful every day brings with it the opportunity to be surprised.

—Elizabeth Young, That Which Binds Us

Yes, Elizabeth. Yes!

And thank you, Susan, for your beautiful reminder to me.

XXOO