Good Morning

I rise early, when you can see the river and mountains beyond but as soon as the lamp is on it all disappears so you can see what is in front of you.  I turn on the coffee, take two extra strength Tylenol with a glass of water, walk to the stove and open the door.  The nights fire is now embers, the middle of the night stoke survived and I place a few sticks of wood on to sit in the warmth that will just exist a few feet around the black iron box.  It will be a lazy morning, 27° and time to read, think and write, mornings I seem to only have here.  The coffee quits perking and I go and slowly pick the one beautiful hand made cups that I want to live with this morning.  The one made from the dirt off Mamaw’s grave wins.  It has a thick glaze of Yellow Salt that breaks brown at every ridge.  I pour myself a cup of Starbucks French Roast and return to my couch corner beside the stove, pick up my Bible and read.  This morning I read four pages in Leviticus trying especially hard to pay attention wanting to hear from God in these long unclean and sacrificial passages.  One of life’s greatest quests is to hear from God.  If He is then it would be perhaps life’s only quest.  To hear from God would be like walking peacefully on the deepest sea floor examining the truth of all you see while simultaneously knowing full well the dangers of where you were.  It is so good that you dare not share it, those that believe think you sanctimonious, those that don’t, a loon.  I finish the chapters, not sure I heard or not, and then read my Morning Prayer from the Puritan Prayer book.  The words and phrases of these prayers are from the sincere hearts not caked with modern technologies and incessant information.  They are clear and clean and coming from a heart whose days are filled with thoughts of God and tending nourishment from the earth; a time when all one’s influences where Him and it, creating a more human human who knew to Whom and for what to pray.   After that a few moments preparing myself to be a better husband and then a chapter in my new morning book, What Light Can Do. (My day and evening book is Washington, A Life a lengthy biography of George Washington).  By now the day has well begun, this morning clear and cold, quite as only rivers and mountains can be with every glimpse causing a pause in your routine, a pause that always deepens your routine.  I have sat my second cup of coffee on the stove to warm it up and have decided the theme of today’s blog, A Morning.  My wife and dog still sleep soundly a few feet away wrapped in flannel and fur.  This brings me peace knowing we all are enjoying the quiet of the morning.  I look up again and notice several tiny winter birds flitter about keeping the winter freeze out of their ounce-less frame.  My prayer list waits hoping that God will hear me as I hope I have heard Him.  Most morning here remind me of that old line from the Cat Steven’s song, “Morning has broken, like the first morning” and I decide to change the title of todays blog; Good Morning.