Tom slept in the recliner all night because of his back, so I got up quietly this morning and slipped on my coat over my robe. I'd forgotten to wheel the trash can out to the curb last night so I stepped outside into the morning's icy wind to take out not only the trash, but the recycling.
I do love brisk, icy mornings, even when I must take out the trash. I often stand at the curb a few seconds and stare at our house while it resembles a candle-lit shelter in a storm. I feel glad all over again that this little house is ours, and then I run back to its arms and close the door behind me.
Because Tom was still in the recliner, I had to switch to our bedroom for my quiet time. I heated my fake coffee, put the lamp on my bed, and also my wicker tray. Slipped in my music, got my books and diary from the sunroom shelves, then went back to our bedroom and snuggled beneath the covers and the pool of light.
Did you notice the child at the top of this post? Children are great. Most of them don't sit around meditating about how bad they've been. Instead, they spend much time thinking about the next round of fun. How to have it. How to create it.
When I have my morning quiet time, I think a bit like that, too. I put this verse into practice:
Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith...Hebrews 12:2
I don't sit there and 'look unto me' and meditate upon how bad I've been or how I've messed up. Instead, I 'look unto Jesus' and I see hope for my failures. Unconditional love. Peace. Tranquility.
I will become like what I think about. What I meditate upon and think about all the time will take hold of me. Like a child, I want to anticipate my future. To look forward to it. I want to think creatively and anticipate joy.
The last thing I'm going to meditate upon during my morning quiet times is my list of failures. No, in fact, I'm on my way back up to bed right now and the pool of light, books and coffee--and I'll be looking unto Jesus.
There is no better way to start this dark, wintry morning.
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Lose an hour in the morning, and you will be all day hunting for it... Richard Whately
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