Meet Me in the Morning

I love the morning.

I love rising when the house is still and silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the entryway. I walk to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee in the half-dark, then sit and pray or meditate in quiet before the world breaks free.

I love looking out my living room window and watching dawn's warm and golden glow spread and dance across the dark nooks in our shady yard. The way the shimmering and dappled yellow light spreads and separates the darkness ever so gently and magnificently reminds me of hope. The hope of the new day, of new life, new opportunities.

Another chance to be the person I want to be. To become the person God wants me to be. To love my family and friends. To love the earth and all its inhabitants –– even the ones who test my capacity to love. To laugh and write and live and love. To embrace the beautiful and wonderful life I have been given.

These moments seem rare and fleeting these days. Moments when I can stop and breathe and be and simply appreciate this beauty. Any moment a bedroom door will be flung open and I will hear someone calling for "mommy," and so the mad dash through my day will begin.

What a wonderful gift to begin it this way.