I LOVE mornings... early, early mornings. Before the sun, before the birds, before the alarm clock and the coffee maker, before the rest of the world... before everyone and everything except time with my Savior.
There's something about the dark, quiet - after I've rested - that draws like a magnet.
As a swimming teen - first thing early morning workouts were my favorites. Sometimes I'd actually swim faster then, than in an actual competition. Swimming laps outdoors in the summer as the sun rose... those memories still leave me speechless. Nothing but the sound of water splashing, the clock ticking and praying away stroke after stroke after stroke.
In college, waking early to find a quiet dorm lounge where I could study without disturbing my roommate resulted in a more productive homework session.
Rising early to take off driving - whether heading to or from home - the road quiet and peaceful and mostly free of traffic with soft music or provocative discussions or Bible teachers on the radio... the miles simply melt away.
Once becoming a mama, early morning feedings then later watching sweetness sleep nestled next to me made sleep almost undesirable. Quiet times to rock and read and snuggle and visit and beat from-the-heart-thanks are treasures.
Then there are the wee morning hours with sick ones. Honestly, I used to resent those times, until I grasped that those really were blessings in disguise, God offering the gift of more time to rock and read and snuggle and visit and pray and serve my family.
Later, enveloped by heat and living life on the backside of the Sahara Desert, mornings because the best time to bake bread... and to feed on the Word of God. Sometimes, it permitted unexpected messenger conversations with friends and family afar. Other times, this allowed for sweet surprises and dozens of donuts that didn't come from Dunkin's, Crispy Creme's or Tim Horton's... but rather my own kitchen... my own hands... my own sweat.
Today, sometimes mornings are times to lie quiet and still beside my husband, listen to him breathe (or sometimes softly snore) and remember while remembering - to be thankful for all that God has allowed since bringing us together, for all that He will bring in our time that remains.
I can't forget Saturday morning cleaning where the whole family pitches in - the music blares while we dance with brooms or scrub a toilet in time with the beat. During one season, we were privileged to watch love blossom when he came to help her... with her "jobs." Now that's love!
And finally, this oft' prayed proverb: "The way of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, which shines ever brighter until the full light of day."
May it ever be so...