Thursday, August 2, 2012

Dear Morning Dearest.

Dear morning,

Lately, you wake me gently.

I don't remember when it started. (And I dare not say it will be like this for good.)

But suddenly, she is sleeping until late morning. It would appear that the early mornings of a toddler standing at my bedside, begging for cereal and snuggles are passing. The mornings where she stood nose to nose with me, explaining how the light was just breaking behind the buildings and I would crankily groan about "needing more sleep" or "a few more minutes"... well, they are going quietly into the night, into those storybooks of childhood I will one day repeat back to her. Into the annals of "remember whens".

Now I'm stirring at first light with silence. A morning commuter zips by, a construction vehicle grumbles at a start-up, a warm ray lays steady on my floor, and I'm stretching out the sleep to the quiet hum of a waking city.

I'm brewing coffee by tip-toed steps. I'm taking notes for the day, reading the words of Life, curling up in a corner chair, staring blankly at the empty room, listening to Chopin or Kari Jobe or Dawes, and feeling the day unfold at a pace I'm not familiar with.

I'm telling myself — No work before 9 a.m.
I'm sipping on coffee saying — it's warm. It's even a little hot. And from her room I hear the creak of a turn on a mattress and nothing more.
I'm whispering prayers and then talking to myself, and I can almost see all of these words shimmer across the empty hardwood floor, into the air with nothing to stop them.

Remember when she'd wake so early, we wondered if the day was even redeemable? When even coffee was water to the tired that sank deep into our bones? Remember when the baby was bored and full of energy and needing every moment of attention in that quiet apartment in Denton, and by 9 a.m. I was in tears on the phone with my mother and sister and asking, "How do I do this and make it out happy and alive?"

Now, I'm looking at a to-do list that speaks of answered prayers. I'm sneaking a look through the crack in her door to make sure she's actually sleeping and not dead or missing (Yes, these things cross my mind). I'm memorizing the floorboards that creak, the door hinges that sing too loudly, the right turn of the faucet knob that makes the water flow quiet and not shrill.

I'm memorizing, and remembering, and feeling like my time with her is sand between my fingers.

So, morning, you are lovely. My Father has made you pristine. New and untouched. Full of mercy and kindness and grace and calling to an earth that may curse you, but needs you just the same.

Dear morning, you are my reminder that He will make all things new.


  1. Oh how I needed this to know there is another side. We are in the "I can't sleep. I too wake" at 4:00 am stage. And with every last maternal fiber in my body I HATE IT. Once upon a time we had a beautiful, peaceful sleeper. And then one day that child was taken and replaced with this equally sweet non sleeping version. Clearly, at 2 years old, one must not understand how desperately his mother needs rest. Anxiously awaiting a new stage :) Love you and M!

    1. There is another side!! M & I had some of those "I can't sleep" days too. Rough, rough. Hang in there. If it's any comfort, in hindsight, it really just goes by super fast even though in those days it's agony. Once she found her night rhythm, it's been so much better... and now, of course, I don't even know what to say. I almost didn't want to write this blog for fear of jinxing myself ;P Love you too!! Here's to new stages!

  2. Chopin. Good choice. I've only read your blog a few times, but should and will more. I really like your perspective and writing style.

    1. Chopin = one of my favorites. It just starts the day off right, you know? And yes, this is your open invitation to keep reading! :)

  3. 4am? Did you really say 4am? I guess I'm extra tired with pregnancy, but when my 18 month little girl wakes up before 6am, I wonder if the day is redeem-able. :) Loved this post, thank you for sharing!!! I do try to treasure the moments, but deep down, can't believe she'll ever be older than this.

    1. My mom always says, "The days are long but the years are short." And man, oh man, is she ever so right! And the 4 a.m. wake-up call? Lord have mercy.