One family home evening years ago began with our singing, “The day dawn is breaking, the world is awaking” (“The Day Dawn is Breaking,” Hymns, no. 52). When we asked each of our five children to suggest an activity we could do that week, five-year-old Fernando said plaintively, “I want to see what it’s like when the day breaks and the world wakes up.” We tried and tried to explain to him all of the things that happen: how the sun comes up, the morning breezes blow, and the dew glistens on the landscape. But he would have none of it. “I want to see it,” he repeated.
So that Thursday at 4:00 a.m., we got up, piled into our car, and drove to a place with a clear view of the eastern sky. Sunrise that day seemed to come from heaven itself. Circles of yellow color were transformed into a brilliant coral as the great curvature of the sun appeared. It was glorious.
Thirty years later, Fernando’s small son Fernandito was visiting us. “You know what, Grandma?” he said. “Papa took us to see the sunrise.”