The Seven O'Clock Crowd

It's almost seven o'clock in the morning and you will arrive soon. 

A group of you Quiet Ones always steps in here around now, usually without ringing the doorbell first. I don't mind. Usually I am prepared for you, though nearly always still in my robe, and my hair is brushed--though barely. And often I've already prepared something to offer you as you settle in a chair.

But this is an unready morning. I've been dreaming too much in a pool of light at my little table by the fireplace. Nibbling at the sentences from my devotional books (I forgot to mention those books in my post below). Playing too much with Oreo The Cat. Loving these silent Tuesday morning hours too much to write about them-- just desiring to live them unwritten, instead.

And yet, I am prepared for you. I do have something amazing to offer you, but it's not from my own pen. No, it's from Kelly's.

So here. Read it and keep it with you throughout your day, wherever you go. Don't leave it at a train station or in a desk drawer. No, keep it in a pocket near your heart.

And if you are one of the seven o'clock crowd, I'll see you again tomorrow morning, and hopefully, I'll greet you at the door with words in my hand.


***
"Each morning the day lies like a fresh shirt on our bed; this incomparably fine, incomparably tightly woven tissue of pure prediction fits us perfectly. The happiness of the next twenty-four hours depends on our ability, on waking, to pick it up." ... Walter Benjamin