This Ordinary Morning

I wake from a disturbing dream, bringing some of the burden with me, and feel the need to orient myself.

It’s Thursday (though it feels like Monday after yesterday’s Canada Day holiday). The person in my dream hasn’t been in my life for decades. I have to go for blood work today. I listen to the steady sleep breathing of Gerry and Maya ebbing and flowing like a tide. The morning air is cool on my arms. I hear the low rumble of a train in the distance. I see a crack of light under the door indicating the AeroGarden light has come on so it’s after 4:00 a.m.—judging by the light, not much after. I have to pee. I want coffee.

And day begins.

I wander the house as the coffee brews, going first to the south facing window in the den and then to the north facing window in the living room—the window of beautiful views. The sky is gray and unremarkable, but no less able to elicit a bubble of worship.

You have brought us in safety to a new day.

I take a tall mug of soy milky frothy coffee with me back to bed where I read a few things, think about things, and write about other things. These first minutes of the day set a tone.

It is well, it is well, with my soul.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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