If they open, I will rise.
Once my body is awake, it no longer wants to be cooped up in a stuffy bed. It will get sweaty, it will remind me that it's been a long time since we've used the bathroom, and my mind starts ticking through the to-do list.
And, if I rise, the tap-dancing dog will also rise and begin his morning shuffle across the dining room floor.
I need to get him some little socks.
He already wears a sarong.
There are days I get seriously jealous of the sleepers who can allow themselves to lounge the mornings away. I'm married to one. And I'm a sister to another. I don't understand it--because I get too hot and bothered. I've tried a variety of sheets, I've tried a variety of pajamas, I've even turned the thermostat down hoping a cool shot of freon would aid me in my quest to sleep in just a few more minutes.
But, the truth is, I don't like to waste my day. And if my eyes are open, my time is ticking. And I've come to relish a few moments of privacy each morning. Just me, my coffee, my Word and journal, and (if it's a great morning) my chance to put my thoughts down. I love to sit here in my spot and read and write. To sip and stare out my windows. To listen to what my heart says and try to formulate that into thoughts and sometimes words. My soul has awakened to much Truth this summer. I have learned things about myself that took decades to realize. I have wrestled with yuck, shirked it off, and borrowed Strength I didn't know I needed.
This is what I'll miss most when next week happens. My time to slowly start the day--not rushed by bells and drums. Not having time in the mornings to sit and consider. My mornings are my best times--but somehow 7:00am and 5:45am looks, and feels, decidedly different.
My eyes have been opened this summer.
And I don't want to lose what I have learned to see in these mornings.