Morning Light

 

Gluten morgen!

 

A blogger/cat lover/person of influence named Susannah Conway posted what I believe is technically a photo challenge for August, but I am going to use it as a writing challenge.

 

NOW BEFORE I CONTINUE.

 

I make zero promises that I will write according to every prompt every day for the month of August. Please. I mean sure it might happen and that would be awesome but it might not happen and I declare that that too will be awesome.

 

Anyway, so today's prompt for a photo which we are turning into a prompt for a blog post is this:

 

Morning Light.

 

So without further ado, I will compose a blog post for the first time in a long time. You're welcome, Jill. Thanks for saying you miss my blog.

 

***

 

I hated being up in the morning as a teenager. I mean, most teenagers hate that, right?

 

I believe it's scientifically proven that kids at that age NEED a lot of sleep. They're growing like crazy, so personally I try to be relatively gentle with sleepy, lanky, young humans. Then again I don't have any of my own yet, so....

 

I hated being up in the morning, and then at some point in college I became a much kinder person in the mornings and I actually had to finally have a heart-to-heart with my family members to explain that this whole "Grouchy Bailey in the Morning" moniker had to go.

 

I think my a.m. mood shifted for a few reasons. Number one, I was out of the growth spurt zone, so I think I just didn't need as much physical rest. Two, I began a job the summer I turned 19 that required me to be up early, so I just went to bed early and adapted. And finally, I was too afraid (still am) to be unpleasant with people who were friends but not family (AKA roommates from Ohio and Michigan and Indiana), so I mustered up early morning smiles and eventually it just became natural.

 

Fast forward several years when I started working 5 a.m. shifts at Starbucks and I really discovered that while coffee is a dear, dear friend in this life, Bailey Kathleen doesn't exactly need her.

 

She just loves her and drinks her anyway.

 

***

 

For years I have wanted to be an early morning exerciser, but it hasn't happened. It's true, I am totally fine to socialize and function and work even before dawn, but if I don't have to be up for anything, I won't get up. Ergo, I am not a breakfast eater, I am not a morning bather, I am not a read the paper/make coffee at home/walk the cat in the morning person. Generally speaking I roll out of bed, grab the essentials, and go.

 

But.

 

I love being up earlier than I have to be.

 

I really do.

 

I love the mystical quiet of a house filled with snoozing peeps, where I am the mouse tiptoeing to the Kuerig machine.

 

I love texting my friends who live two hours forward.

 

I love journaling in bed.

 

I love doing whatever I want or nothing at all, and usually these are one and the same.

 

I love when Max crawls to my lap to get snuggled because Mama's Up!

 

And I love the light.

 

I love the way the cat holds still as I photograph him in the beams filtering through the mini-blinds.

 

I love the black to navy to ocean to Brewer-blue-eye slideshow of colors that appear in the west, changing in their stillness until we have a new day.

 

I love a new day.

 

I love the possibility of ending the strangeness between strangers, as we chat about books we love and songs we love and IPA beers we hate and wham! We're pals.

 

I love the soft trust of a new day just beginning.

 

I love the open space and the God sitting right there at the foot of the bed, ready to listen and be with us.

 

I love that He's in no rush and I can dump worries on Him or gush about how much I love color and cats and words and man if He didn't decide that I should have a chance to hang out with all of those things in this place called Life.

 

I love being alone to reflect on all the people I love love love love love. Charging up those extroverted reserves to go be loud and touchy-feely and sappy and crabby and moody and loved in return by these people who take me as I am, hyper or no.

 

I love the morning's rest after the night's rest. The rest where we can sort out any nightmares, remind ourselves they're just subconscious. The rest where we can sit up and lean into the pillow mountain instead of climbing the day's peaks.

 

I don't do it often, but when I can coax myself into opening my eyes, lure myself awake with a cuppa, I just devour the time around me.

 

Because WHAT. a simple, sacred, ridiculous gift to exit the dark and welcome the light.

 

The morning light, and her bright rest.