Morning Prayer

The pre-dawn sky looks something like this. Not quite, because the miracle never looks the same more than once. I watch as it grows more spectacular with every passing second. Glory, I say in the quiet of my mind. Gerry gets up to make coffee and pauses as he passes the east facing open door in

But

I surface from slumber in prayer and a still, small whisper tells me something I’m prone to forget. You’re carrying a burden that isn’t yours to carry. I know, but . . . I do that so often. I try to justify my worries as if my particular circumstance is beyond the scope of the

Important, Not Urgent

Gerry leaves early for a hike and I putter in the kitchen making pasta salad and a big batch of granola. It’s 9:00 when everything’s done, cleaned up, and put away: the time I head down to the woman cave to write. But the sun is shining and it is warm outside. The deck looks