Giggles and squeals disturb the peace of the grassy hill in the countryside. But that’s okay and even to be expected when you get a dozen small children out of bed early on a weekend. Besides, I’ve always liked the sound of kids having fun.

When the time is right, just as the horizon is awakening with new light, I whisper, “Shhhhhhh.” With a final ripple of twittering they come to near silence and attend to the show, the birth of a new day, when the sun breaks out of its nightly prison casting a happy balm of warming yellows and oranges onto a waiting world.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, only four and already she gets the point.

“That’s right,” I whisper back but loud enough so they can all here, “The world can be a beautiful place, if you know where and how to look.”

Who knows if any of them will remember this or my hushed proclamation. Who knows if life will be beautiful for them. But I have faith, and I hope they will too. The world and life can be beautiful, if only we could see it.