There are mornings when the soul hesitates before the day. The body stirs, but the heart feels heavy, uncertain of purpose. The mind drifts toward the tasks that await, the ordinary, the repetitive, the difficult. Yet even in this weariness a hidden grace stirs. The very act of turning one’s thoughts toward God transforms the moment. The dullness of the morning becomes a place of encounter. The burdens that once seemed lifeless or harsh are revealed as vessels of divine compassion.
The Fathers teach that the simple awareness of God’s presence is itself prayer, a light that dawns within the heart before a word is spoken. When the soul remembers God, all things take on a new hue. The day ceases to be a mere sequence of obligations and becomes instead a revelation of His mercy. The smallest act, washing one’s face, lighting a candle, offering a sigh of thanksgiving, becomes filled with the radiance of His love.
The morning prayer of the Church reminds us that even our rising from sleep is a mystery of grace. We are lifted from unconsciousness, from darkness and forgetfulness, not by our own strength but by the tender mercy of the Holy Trinity. “You were not angry with me the idler and sinner,” the prayer confesses, “nor have You destroyed me in my transgressions.” In these words the soul remembers that it is not sustained by its diligence or purity but by God’s steadfast love, a love that neither slumbers nor grows weary.
Every morning God raises us as He raised Adam from the dust. Each awakening is a small resurrection. The eye of the mind, clouded by the night, is invited to see anew. The mouth that was silent is called to speak praise. The heart, once heavy, is stirred to thanksgiving. And even when the emotions remain dull or the body weak, the act of turning to God, of whispering “Glory to You,” becomes a participation in His life-giving power.
The morning, then, is not only a time of renewal but of divine invitation. “Enlighten the eye of my mind,” the prayer pleads. This enlightenment is not merely intellectual but existential, to see the day, the world, the people before us as radiant with God’s presence. To discern in every duty and encounter the trace of His love. The one who prays in this way begins to live the entire day as a liturgy, each moment as a confession of His glory.
Thus, when it is hard to rise, let the soul remember that to awaken is to be touched by mercy. To open one’s eyes is to behold the generosity of God. The grace that lifted us from sleep will also carry us through every hardship and illumine every small act of love. For the Lord who gives us the morning is Himself the Morning Star, risen in the heart, dispersing the shadows, and teaching the soul to rejoice in the light of His countenance.
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