Morning wraps me up like a lover’s embrace. I delight in the romance. I never have to wait for more than a day to experience it yet again.
Morning and I typically share 45 minutes to an hour before my children awaken, sleepily moving into their regular routine.
We have our own dialogue, Morning and I. Messages, devotions, studies, stirrings, the Word, silence – we are honest and raw with one another. It’s okay really. It’s one of the reasons I come here. I want it no other way.
Like laying my emotions, thoughts, and spirit on a conveyor belt and running them through an airport scanner, our conversation often illuminates the hidden things that I can not take with me to the Other Side. I admit that at times I get a bit miffed. After all, I thought that I was doing a much better job of masking all of that. But Morning is the first thing that happens every day, so it catches me fresh, unadulterated, unprepared. I choose to show up that way though. There are no demands on me to be there.
I look forward to our trysts. As the sun begins to rise and the order of my day begins, I sense there has been a tilling, a turning over and a pulling out of those things that (I foolishly thought) were hidden; and dropped in the empty holes are reminders of love and purpose and promise, and my mind is renewed.
And I am totally enthralled knowing that I only have to wait a day ’till next we meet.
Morning and I.
Relinquishing 