Mornings

Yesterday:



This morning:













My health regimen created new morning rituals. I must take the A.M. round of hormones before 9:00 on an empty stomach, so I do so, then open all of the downstairs window blinds. I brew a coffee pot full of yerba maté basking in the comforting sound of percolation. I set turkey sausage on low heat for twenty minutes. While I wait, I either sit at the breakfast nook table (first, fifth, and seventh pictures) or in the living room (second picture) and cradle the warm mug of smoky, morning brew. I read a Psalm or at least a verse. Today: "O sing unto God, and sing praises unto His name: magnify him that rideth upon the heavens as it were upon a horse; praise Him in His name JAH, and rejoice before Him." (Psalm 68:4) I browse The Glass Doorknob - I love how Shari lives. Next up, Hoping for Happy Accidents. I consider purchases such as these postcards. Lately, I'm inspired by beauty in the simple and practical.

Yesterday morning I ran late, missing a visit to the nursing home. The fact that I-10 is partially closed did not aid my latent punctuality. Last Sunday I did drop by the old nursing home 'round the corner from our Church. I met Fay in the hallway as she quickly scooted by on her walker. She wore a thin, red headband in her snow-white bob hairdo. On her feet were red Crocs. She invited me to her room which she shares with Ruth - a glass hummingbird mobile greeted me at their door. I think a physical ailment caused Fay's head to move to and fro, yet she seemed to twitter with joy. We sat on the edge of her bed and she eagerly asked, "Do you like music?" I answered yes and the next thing I knew, Fay shoved her headphones on my ears: smooth R & B. Surprised, I asked if she liked R & B. She nodded up and down with enthusiasm and a wide grin. We prayed, and in sweet seriousness with not a twitch of her muscles she said, "God always answers us. Sometimes He answers quickly, sometimes He answers slow, but He always answers us, He always hears." It is in those moments that I know with certainty I don't go to the nursing home for charity's sake, but because the elderly are wise. They have lived through much worse (and much better) than my thyroid and hormonal imbalances. I often know I've been sent there to hear wisdom and see courage.

And so, I have Fay to thank for my new pill-swallowing strategy after breakfast. I click on iTunes and play upbeat songs by Waterdeep, Okkervil River, The Shins, Arcade Fire, and the like, and honest to God, I shake my booty while I swallow all of those vitamins and minerals. This may surprise those of you who know me well, but even demure folk shake their booty sometimes. I dance around our kitchen. I smile in the face of fatigue, and today, the face of hope - the very face of God. The golden light - a blanket on our lawn. That light caught in a neighbor's sprinkler, sputtering diamonds on their grass. The gold shredded and tossed up in the tree tops. Honey-gold light seeping into our house. I look at my vitamins and see instead: vitamin D and fish oil softgels are jewels - my birthstone - a gold topaz.

Why I declare, the heavens do shout (ear-splitting!) the glory of God. Yesterday was a loud exclamation. I bravely drove to Church under the bold sun listening to Mars Hill Audio. Nothing could stop me. Traffic tried, but I still made it, not too late, and grabbed a seat by a handsome drummer. This was a treat, as if we were still dating. Johnny normally helps to lead music, but he took a Sunday off since he played an earlier gig at another Church before ours. Our friend Chris sang Daniel Lanois's "The Maker" during the offertory and boy, did my face light up. Our friends Omar + Lorena asked us to carry their son Judah - our Godson - up to Communion which we happily did like clumsy new parents.

Today the air is full of the thickest hope, and I'll tell you, days like these don't come around as often as I'd like. So I'm reveling in the hope, in the grace, in the dancing. The light is a different shade now. Brighter, and the cicadas are singing early. If our evening walk is anything like Saturday, we'll see tall thunderhead clouds trimmed with pastel light, looking strong as horses, and there God will be riding.