On Waking

I haven't written for a bit. To be honest, I'm not sure that I've wanted to write for a bit. Getting the words from my brain to the page has seemed a daunting, impossible task.

The words - they're full of sadness and impatient longing. They're words of regret and thanksgiving. They're words of  impatience and diligence. They're words of a wonderment and misunderstanding. They're words of hopefulness and a bit of moody depression.

They're words I don't want to write - can't write - can't quite get down in a meaningful way because I don't know how to tell you about the dueling fullness and emptiness of my heart. I can't speak it in any language Google can translate. I can't interpret for you these inner groanings of my spirit.

But today - today, I can tell you of the newness of the sun and the morning air. I can tell you how in waking, the world around me feels a little shifted - a little new. The spirit inside me feels a little fresh - a little replenished.

Maybe it is the time yesterday with my other - my wonderfully new other who replenishes and fills me with hope and promise and restores in me the goodness of a godly man and a godly woman together.

Maybe it is the stiffness of my gardened muscles stretched before fully waking - taut and strong from tilling and planting and watering my flowerbeds into springtime shape.

Maybe it is the restless energy of my friend's pup visiting for the weekend - his mommy traveling and entrusting me with all his puppy neediness.

Maybe it is the me I am colliding with the God He is - shifting and shaping and being made new. New eyes, new hands, new hearts, new awakenings.

Whatever it is, I'm delighting in the wakefulness of this morning.

Delighting to worship alongside the fellowship in song and prayer and meditation. Delighting to share a meal with my family. Delighting to rest and restore and bask in the goodliness of Sabbath.

It's a morning of newness and I'm overwhelmed by its possibilities.

Overwhelmed and awed and amazed.