Are You Ready For a Sunrise of New Beginnings

Fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath as I glanced again at my watch to verify the time. Fifteen minutes until sunrise.

Breath came in little white puffs, an unusual sight in the desert. Briefly visible in the halo of light from my headlamp, the tiny clouds evaporated into the grayness of the pre-dawn morning.       
   
I couldn’t help but think of The Little Engine That Could as I huffed and puffed up Camelback Mountain, so named because its shape resembles the hump and head of a kneeling camel. With a steady pace and a desire to see the sunrise, my goal had been to make the summit without having to stop and rest, but when my heart began to pump out my eyeballs, I stumbled to a halt to gasp in more oxygen, mumbling some unkind words to this desert dromedary with its 1264 feet change in elevation in 1.2 miles.

I could see my husband’s circle of light about five minutes in front of me, as Kevin attacked another boulder-strewn gulley. Watching him scale the mountain with little effort, made me wonder—not for the first time—if I had sustained lung damage from my 14-month bout with long-COVID—a concern my doctor assured me was unfounded.   

“What would you like to leave behind and not take with you into the new year?” my husband had asked at his end-of-the-year sermon.

F.E.A.R.

I hadn’t had to stop and think about it. The words were right there, ready to escape from the tip of my pen in block letters. All caps.

D.O.U.B.T.

I had added the second line in black ink, a color appropriate for the words. My past health struggles and recovery had left me hesitant and cautious.

Faster hikers left me in their dust on Camelback as I slowly counted to ten, concentrating on my breathing and heartbeat. I longed to breathe clean air again.

“What do you want to carry with you into the New Year?” my husband had then asked.

HOPE.
GOALS.
LIFE.

Again the all caps. Again the list of words.

But, this time, a stirring. A rustling of all that had been dormant for so long. A lifting.

I am ready. I had written the words in cursive script down the side of my notepaper. Like a prayer. A benediction. A blessing over my life.

I wasn’t even quite sure what the words meant, but I added four exclamation points, just to be on the safe side.

I am ready!!!!

Ready for change? Ready to move forward? Ready for new dreams?

Ready to leave the darkness and step into the light.

I turned left at an ancient saguaro cactus for the final scramble to the summit. I set my backpack on a boulder and glanced at my watch. Seven minutes until the rising.

Kevin handed me a cup of hot chocolate from a thermos as I settled next to him, using his larger shoulders as a haven against the chilly edge. I pulled out my wool shirt to cover my damp t-shirt, the sweat still present in the 35-degree morning. Was the wind blowing in the new year or blowing out the old? I prayed for both.

We have spent many January firsts on this mountain, greeting the new year with prayers and anticipation. For several years a man with bagpipes had made the climb and greeted the sun with the strains of Amazing Grace, astounding me with his fortitude and humbling me for my own struggle up the mountain.

I did not see him in the crowd gathering, with all eyes to the east.

“He’s not here,” Kevin confirmed, “but look over there.”

My eyes followed his pointing finger. A man dressed in white shoes and sweatpants, with a waist-length red tunic stood a few feet to the right. The clothing didn’t attract our attention, but, rather, the item he had strapped over his right shoulder.

A drum. A very large drum.
 

While the rest of us huddled in hoodies, windbreakers, and sweatpants, we watched in amazement as the drummer removed his red tunic, standing bare-chested in the biting wind. His shoulder-length, black hair whipped in movement to the morning as he pulled out two drumsticks.

With the first rays of sunlight, he gave voice to his instrument.

Boom. Boom-boom. Boom. Boom-boom.

Golden rays, as soft as the palest honey skittered across the horizon.

Boom. Boom-boom. Boom. Boom-boom.

Like an artist with a blank canvas, the early morning troubadour painted the dawn, not with color, but with the tune of welcome.

Of hope. Of renewal. Of life.

I turned my face to the morning.

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