The sun is rising in a cloudless sky. I grab my coffee, Bible, and notebook, and head to the deck in my garden. The deck faces east. It takes a little effort to face my chair away from the rising sun, but after all, I’m in the Sunshine State. I have to try a few different chairs before I find the right spot. The right spot is perfect. The sun filters through the blooming poinciana tree just enough to lift my heart, but not enough to blind my eyes. The breeze cools me and keeps away the no-see-ums, but doesn’t blow the pages of my Bible and notepad.

The sun shines much of the time in Florida, but never as brightly as after a storm. Setting in my garden thoughts play around the edges of my mind. I hear the birds singing. I see the plants washed fresh by yesterday’s rain, blooming with pride as they glorify their maker.

And as if placed by the hand of God in my fuzzy morning head, a thought surfaces. Yes. The sun shies brightest after a storm. This is as true in my life as it is in the world.