Some mornings are a gift.
This morning I do not go into work until nine. I have an extra hour that I have sorely missed all summer. I hit the snooze two times then stumble out of bed and into my running shoes. Most running day I have slept in my running clothes to hopefully motivate me not to hit the snooze three times or turn it off all together and snuggle up to The Mister for another 45 minutes.
This morning, however, was a gift. As soon as I stepped out on the back porch I felt the coolness that had not been around since last March. I knew that most likely tomorrow’s run will be thick and muggy again so I decided I needed to unwrap this gift slowly and carefully. I did not rip off the bow, instead I decided not to listen to my iPod and instead, with every step down my long drive, I listened for the bird that were making a choir of music. Instead of tearing through the wrapping, I listened to my breathing ramp up in rhythm to my steps and watched the cool air mix with the sultry lake water and cast the most gorgeous fog over the lake. The sun splayed over the surface and a thousand diamonds sparkled in the morning light.
Sometimes unwrapping the gift is part of the joy of receiving the gift. I sit here on my porch, run finished and let the cool breeze dry sweat off my face while I finish my coffee. I hear a deer in the woods but can’t see her yet. As soon as The Mister comes out to join me we will watch her through the trees and we won’t rush because The Mister never rushes when he watches deer.
The sky is a brilliant blue and the last of my tomatoes are turning a fiery deep red. I practice being in the moment. I don’t think about the rest of my day, or about my grandsweetie going to preschool for the first time tomorrow. I don’t want anything to spoil the next five minutes.
This morning was a gift. God gave it to me because He loves me and sometimes I feel like He is so good to me I must be His favorite.