I don't have a clue what it

was.

All I know is he, she, or it

just kept saying "Pssst, Pssst, Pssst," over and over and over

until I wanted to scream.

Try as I might, I am not a

morning person. By that, I mean I do not hit the floor pretending for

one moment to be a Mary Sunshine of the morning. And hitting it at all

before there is actually a little sunshine showing is not my cup of tea

no matter how strong its been brewed.

At any rate, on a recent Saturday

morning, I awoke at 5:30 and my body said get up. Most unusual. My body

never says get up at 5:30 am. I am a 7 a.m. soul and not ashamed of it

in light of the fact that I often work until well past midnight.

Yet on this particular morning,

and a Saturday at that, when I could easily have snuggled until 8 or 8:30,

I awoke and it was 5:30. It was one of those awakenings that told me there

was no use to turn over and try to return to the dreamland from which

I just been abruptly pulled.

Reluctantly, but decidedly,

I got up. Pulled on a robe. Took my thyroid pill. Poured a glass of tea

I prefer iced, 24/7 and headed for the front porch to wait for the sun

to come up.

I was delighted by the hush

that reigned. Most unlike the late evening, when I sit out and listen

to the sounds of the night. I really do not like all that nighttime chatter

which some claim is like a lullaby. But the early morning quiet was awesome.

Then suddenly I heard that

first "Pssst." Like when someone tries to get your attention

in a hushed setting by saying, "Pssst, guess what." Same "Pssst."

Well, I ignored the first few

sets of "Psssts." They seemed to come in sets of three. By early

dawn I was really put out. The "Pssst" was no prelude to anything.

No secret had been forthcoming.

No urgent news had been whispered in my direction. The incessant "Psssts"

were nothing but an interruption to the glorious silence that had greeted

me when I first walked out onto the porch.

Then suddenly, full dawn was

upon me and the symphony began. Almost in unison the music filled the

air. Mating doves seemed to have led, but I could not be sure because

it was like all the sounds of the morning were competing to see who could

sing the praises of this new day first.

And the "Pssst" was

gone.

I don't know that I have ever

been more curious about the origin of a sound.

When Daniel got up and joined

me on the porch, I asked him about the "Pssst" sound. He didn't

know but that doesn't mean he doesn't really know. Its just that we are

such opposites, the way I describe something is seldom the way he perceives

it. Plus, he's deaf in one ear so he may never have heard my "Pssst"

sound before. At least not like I had heard it.

So, this is where you come

in. If you have any idea what the creature is, write to me at PO Box 246,

Gay, GA 30218. I have to know. I mean, what a job!

What an awesome responsibility

to be the one to whisper, "Pssst," as if to say, "Get ready,

here it comes!" every morning before the glorious music of the dawn

unites all of nature in yet another harmonious celebration of one more

new day. One more new beginning.

I figure the little "Pssst"

creature that was irritating me to no end must have just wanted me to

get ready. It probably wakes up early every morning in anticipation, and

with such enthusiasm for the miracle of a new day that it just cant help

whispering to all who will listen "Pssst, get ready, here it comes

again!"

It is an awesome thing to be

able to recognize the chance for a new beginning. The one who knows its

coming probably cant contain itself. I will be a little more forgiving

the next time the little "Pssst" creature invades my rare predawn

silence.

With your help I might even

have a name for it when I whisper a silent thank you to the Father of

all new beginnings and acknowledge with this anonymous creature of the

morning the absolute awe that accompanies one more chance to try again

to get right it right.

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