Thursday, October 13, 2005

Waiting for morning

6:18 a.m.,
after calming fear-drenched hearts past midnight, with three teaspoons of instant coffee aiding the effort but preventing its relief
after the alarm yelps, reminding me to throw on a jacket and move the trash to the curb
after feeding the cats, wetting the wet food wetter for the older one and herding the younger one toward the kibble
after heating milk for the first cup of today's coffee -- only half caffeine, pretending to be full power of the force

6:18 a.m.,
a bit too tired to sit in quiet prayer mode in the darkened living room,
I turn on the computer and wait for it to have its coffee, and look outside through the small window to the right of my desk.

Even when I shut off the desk lamp, it's still dark outside, and the early particles of light comingle with the reflected hum of the sleepy city. There's light in the sky, but it might just be the airport.

Still, looking out through that window brings me comfort, and Christ, because even in the steel gray glow above the horizon there is the promise of morning. The morning light always comes, even after the hardest night. It slowly spreads across the darkness, illuminating both the creation and the created, startling the birds into song. Eventually, even on latenightdays like this, when my soul is caught between sleep and despair and desire, the Morning Light shines through that window, catching me up in His light.

It lightens my workspace.
It lightens my heart.

after late nights and too-early days, the Morning Light appears. I cannot see it coming, but it always comes, reliable, sure, secure.

prayer-wrought



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