The hour before dawn breaks, when it breaks, and the few moments after, are my favorite glimpses of the day. Beauty is both intellectual and visceral. You can look up aesthetics in volumes of the philosophy of art and beauty, or you can walk outside and behold the firmament. Which one teaches? Both, of course. But when you’re outside, you smell creation; you feel the wind (or perhaps stillness); you see colors that dare you to define them. You see a star rise in the East that enables your food to grow, turns your skin darker, and declares the glory of Jesus. The picture above was of clouds in the morning sky as I exited the gym on post after my morning PT.

Later I boarded a plane in Atlanta, bound for Texas, then on to Arkansas. I don’t particularly like crowds. I tend to seek out a bookstore or a coffee shop, and open a book, or watch people. I like people; I just cannot hear myself think if I’m amidst the buzz of a crowd. A few close friends is my preference, where we can talk, connect, and just be. If that’s not an option, I never travel without several books.

But over recent years I have been blessed in my job to be able to travel a great deal and minister to fellow soldiers. When I arrived at the parking lot several hours before dawn, I pushed the little green-glowing button, retrieved my ticket to park, found a parking space, parked, retrieved my ruck and bag, and boarded the shuttle. Right away, I adored the driver. She was a heavy black lady, probably in her late fifties, but was simply kind. She greeted me before I could even say “Good morning.”

“Have you ridden with us before?”

“Yes, many times,” I responded.

“Great! Well, good morning! We’re going to wait a few minutes for some others who’ve just pulled up; then it’ll take us three or four extra minutes to get to the terminal because of all the new construction,” she said.

She was so open, so friendly, I liked her immediately. I looked around the shuttle, stowed my ruck and bag, and took my seat. The lady’s shuttle was clean. I could smell the clean. And there was no trash. No wads of gum, no cigarette butts, no miscellaneous airline tickets, etc. The lady took pride in her job, her shuttle, her presentation of her business to her customers.

I looked at the dashboards where many drivers have places for customers to give tips, a buck or two usually, to thank them for their service. I was surprised to not see one in this lady’s shuttle.

More drivers boarded. I watched them as they bent over their cell phones, put their car keys in their bags, pulled up their boarding passes on their phones. Some of the ladies applied makeup and looked at themselves in compacts.

Finally, we were on our way, and within a few minutes we were at the terminal. I let the others off first, and as I retrieved my ruck and bag, I put some cash on the lady’s dashboard. “Thank you, sir! You just look for me when you come back, okay. I’ll be in this spot.”

“Deal,” I said. “Have a good one. Appreciate you.”

A few hours later, I was looking out over Texas and Arkansas, but I still found myself smiling at the kindness of the lady from 0400 this morning.