Daylight saving doesn't start until the weekend and so, in the meantime, the mornings are dark and becoming darker as I set off in the direction of Vatican Radio. This morning was no exception.
As the bus turned the corner towards the stop closest to Vatican Radio, as always, before standing up, I waited until I wouldn't be taking my life in my hands. So often the vehicle lurches from side to side and woe betide the unsuspecting and unprepared passenger... but I have a different sort of preparedness on dark mornings.
As the bus makes its final swing, it passes the end of the Via delle Conciliazione. For a few seconds it is possible to look straight up the road at St. Peter's, lit up in all its glory. The Italians have a particular gift with lighting: with the minimum of lights, they somehow guarantee the maximum effect. As a result, St. Peter's looks absolutely wonderful in the dark (and even better when it's been raining and the cobblestones in the Square reflect their surroundings). The brief glimpse of the basilica is certain to give a good start to the day.
...but then, today, there was a second dose of loveliness. The Castel Sant'Angelo stood silhuoetted against a blood-red sunrise. So what if it foretold the rain that is cascading down at this precise moment? The scene was so beautiful I felt I just had to stop and glory in its splendour.
God gives us moments of joy even in the midst of the most mundane activities. What could be more ordinary than going to work? Yet God uses those very minutes for reminding us that he is there and that he is both in and beyond the ordinary. Our world might have its brokenness, but it has more than enough beauty to lift our hearts in gladness.