_DSC2778-57Where the sunrise sang a quiet song of joy this morning

I will choose to do the same.

Here’s my story:

_DSC2763-42My husband worked a full day yesterday and I helped the girls with their lessons. I drove the suburban from one end of town to the other and back, and canned all afternoon. Then a weeks-awaited dinner out with just my husband, both of us eager to talk of the next few years and where we should make them. My wide-mouth lid to regular-mouth jar ratio badly off, so there’s another few quarts of tomato sauce waiting in the fridge to be put up today.

_DSC2726-5It is Sleep In Saturday in this house, which this morning means early instead of very early but I have grown to love these quiet hours, when the drunks have gone to sleep in the grass of the park just a block away, and the buzzed parked their vehicles that always seem to lack a muffler out on the street a few hours ago.

Industry hums through my window but so do the colors on the sky.

_DSC2722-1I set out some breakfast for my husband, packed his lunch, made him a pot of coffee and set a cup of it out for him. The rest I poured into that thermos that looks like a tall silver bullet and he will sip on it as he walks those windowless hospital halls today until it gets dark outside again. We don’t usually spend that time together in the mornings but I was glad to have it today.

It was me procrastinating a little bit. There was this problem I needed to wrestle out before I could respond to the boys’ room light on and sound of toys coming out, all signs to me that they are awake and would love to eat some breakfast now. That they want to do it all again today.

 I am not at peace with my mortality today. I need to be reminded of why I do this.

Then the daily reading came from 2 Corinthians chapters four and five.

-So we do not lose heart-

When I and people around me chronically get it wrong? 

-as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen-

Is today a measure for what I’m getting done just so, for who is acting towards me just the way they “ought”?

-For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling-

Yes many days I groan. I get disoriented in this body, in the daily work.

-so that what is mortal may be swallowed up in life-

Where mortality is a daily defeating process and I am in a body made up of it…

it is not fully who I am.

Yet it all has a purpose- the dishes, the laundry, the doctor work of prolonging life just a little bit longer and giving in to death when you can’t anymore, the tantrum that happens again, the flowers that bloom then fall, that raising of a child who could be taken from me or could leave me someday and step on everything on their way out the door like it was something that needed to be smashed and forgotten.

-He who has prepared us for this very thing is God-

He’s good, the very best good. He’s prepared me, so it’s okay.

Life is no daily accident that I have to scrap all my ingenuity together to fix.

-we walk by faith and not by sight.-

Faith is knowing that what I see and do with my hands, and feelings that fill my lungs like a gas, are not the full spectrum of colors that are real.

They are often just like that wall of dusty sandstone rock to the south of my house- it glows when the sun hits it just right. 

It stops me in my tracks every time because that light has a place to land, has something to transform.

For all the dark and dingy things today, You alone make them shine and so praise goes to You for that treasure of a sight. The sun learned that song long ago, didn’t it?