Tell me what's a-happening

4:35 a.m.

The green glow of these numbers stare me down in the dark as I lay in bed trying to convince myself I AM tired and I WILL go back to sleep.

4:44 a.m.

Not making much headway other than have a brief dream about Jesus and me strolling down a path in the middle a meadow on a mild autumn day. We appeared to be having a very nice conversation, I might add. OK, what is this about?

5:00 a.m.

Thinking about the friends I haven't e-mailed in a while particularly a childhood friend whom I should call since the first anniversary of her mother's death was last Sunday. I remember the first anniversary of my mom's passing and it sucked. On a lighter note, I should contact my "Survivor" friends so we can start talking smart about which contestant will go all the way and which one will get the axe in the next episode.

5:15 a.m.

Drag myself out of bed and decide to let out the dog and feed him, too. Because he's developed a new nasty habit of eating his own feces, we have to watch him very closely while he's outside so, when necessary, we can reel him in like a walleye when he does #2.

And here's the surprise. Here's why I get out of bed from time to time at insane hours of the morning. I step outside with the dog and it's 64 degrees (nice by our standards). The wind is warm and blowing gently. And even though I don't have my contacts in I see that the dark sky is blanketed with stars. Whoa.

The dog does his thing. We go back inside where I feed him and make myself a cup of cappuccino. While the dog is enjoying breakfast I go back outside with my capp, sit on a chair in the middle of our deck and stare at the heavens. It's silent. Not even the birds are awake yet. I soak it in for a while because remembering that the world -- and life -- are marvelous is a rush.

I take a break from my staring and go inside to check on the dog and share this moment with you. He's alright. I'm alright. So I think I'll head back outside. I hope you have a moment like this one soon.