a little early morning coffee mixed with crumbled apple & oatmeal muffin. the mornings have become treasured time — some of the only time I see her during my frenzied days.
the morning holds such promise. no shortcomings yet, except for those within my fears. no deadlines missed yet, except perhaps the perpetual hitting of "snooze" on the alarm clock.
on sunday, a member of our Care Team approached me after dozens of people had given me their funeral-like condolences. he simply put one arm around my shoulder and said, "the nights are the hardest, aren't they?" i nodded, tears brimming up faster than i was ready to admit. later that afternoon, he and his wife wrapped their arms around me. arms of knowing. arms of experience. arms of been-there-done-that. arms of you can do this.
and he prayed for the night. that everything that my Father spoke to me during the day wouldn't be forgotten or stolen at night.
and i think this is the other reason i love the morning. the night as pulled in her cloak, the final colors of her shadow sneaking away on the horizon. morning comes quietly but not to be ignored. she sings of new things... and of the end of night. every day this happens. how can we ignore His principles in such basic elements of nature? daylight is not forever. but the night is not a forever thing either.
unless you live in the arctic... and at that i say... why are you living there?