Commuting to the District for work these three years starting most days from a bus stop\u00a0within sight\u00a0of the Potomac, I’ve seen many lovely sunrises over the river, and almost every one makes me think of the Father of our Nation.\u00a0 This morning, through a gap between two buildings, I saw for the hundredth time a beautiful sunrise over the Potomac.\u00a0\u00a0Every time it’s different.\u00a0 Every time it’s beautiful.\u00a0 Every time I think, Washington built his house so he could face that view every day.\u00a0 This morning, the horizon’s edge is\u00a0 pinkish, the colors reflected in the smooth flowing river.\u00a0 The sun also daubs pink on the high canopy of clouds the color stretching almost to the far western edge.\u00a0 Today the approaching sun is a painter, brushing the palette’s colors far from where he slowly emerges into the day.\u00a0 As I watch, the painting grows: orange, amber, gold where sky meets the trees on the far side, then the canvas stretching up, first pinks, then deep mauves, and finally, steely ocean blues directly above.<\/p>\n
Several blocks down the street, from the bus I see the sun has painted the steeple’s top, a bright wash of white that stands out in the dim, early dawn churchyard.\u00a0 This was George’s church, about nine miles from his beloved home overlooking the river.\u00a0 You\u00a0can still sit in the Washington’s family pew.<\/p>\n
Watching the sun rise, though I admire him for what he\u00a0accomplished,\u00a0I admire him more for what he was willing to give up to accomplish it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Commuting to the District for work these three years starting most days from a bus stop\u00a0within sight\u00a0of the Potomac, I’ve seen many lovely sunrises over the river, and almost every one makes me think of the Father of our Nation.\u00a0 … Continue reading