Back to busy.
I guess it was good I had a hospital stay last week. God knew I'd need the rest to keep up with this week.
The last two days have been a whirlwind of everything. I have three precious children who, although are grown and doing their thing, in their unique way, needed me this week. I love it. I would do anything for them, especially as they grow older and need me less and less.
In the midst of this whirlwind week, my mornings have been my quiet times. I love morning. Maybe it's the mystery I see in the sunrise. Maybe it's the reassuring song of the birds regardless of the weather. Maybe it's the hush of the day's newness that allows me to be who I am, not who everyone needs me to be.
Yesterday I got up and took a walk. We've been having rainy mornings, but yesterday rebelled, and dawned clear and calm. As I headed south on my route, the sun was flirting with me. It would wink at me as I passed houses, enchanting me, daring me to look to my left and drink it in. I resisted. I knew where I was heading and I wanted the moment.
I reached the park and headed up a hill, my back to the rising sun. I wasn't ignoring it, I was building the moment. I reached the top of the hill. Now. Now it was time to turn and be amazed.
I was amazed. The sun. The new day. The clouds present only to enhance the canvas of the sky. There were no houses, no buildings to block, only glory. I stood there, arms at my sides, hands open wide, breathing in deep.
A new day.
A chorus of birds proclaimed that today was going to be just fine. There would be a lot of busy, more that I like, but I'd be okay.
How could I question the moment in front of me?
Today I stayed in. The day didn't dawn as clear and I'm trying to monitor my exercise, take it easy after my battle with infection last week. Even though I stayed in, the calmness, the mystery, and the reassurance of a new day seeped through my bedroom window and my bedside lamp.
Here was my quiet place.
Here was my, 'don't bother me yet' place.
Here was my, 'this is who I was meant to be' place.
The birds, and my lamp, and the sun rising outside in a place I couldn't see, still played their reassuring song. And altogether, in that moment, we all said, "Amen."