written from the middle of my bed
Mornings are hard.
The warm bed, the thick covers, the heavy breathing of my sons beside me.
I don’t want to leave the bed.
The alarm goes off and I hold my stupid little phone in my fist and squint at the screen to see what time it is. To determine how many extra minutes I can squeeze out of the morning to stay right where I am – ensconced between two warm, cuddly fellows and enveloped in the foggy morning mental mist that comes before the clarity of each new morning.
Only those of us who have walked life paths we haven’t carved for ourselves know how much renewed courage it takes every new morning to swing our legs to the ground and arise with purpose.
Sometimes the bravest thing I do in a day is to just get out of the bed.
I know I’m not the only person to feel this way.
Every human I’ve ever met has some suffering to face, some battle to wage, some weary to wear, some struggle to carry.
Waking up is hard work.
Being alive is a job for the strong.
And every morning that I crawl out from under the covers, that I slowly make my tired self walk to the kitchen, that I greet my waking band of children with a smile and a hug is a victory I know is worth recognizing.
Mornings always come too early.
The daybreak takes me by surprise sunrise after sunrise.
There’s the hope of new beginnings painfully coupled with the sorrows of fading yesterdays.
It rings true every A.M. with the annoying little alarm sound.
This is your life. This is who you are. This is where you are. This is today.
While I’m still lying in bed, warm stretchy boy legs brushed against my slack middle age legs, I have all these grown up decisions to make.
Choose you this day, I think.
Ugh. Always with the hard early morning choices.
Who will I serve?
Sometimes my choice feels like no choice at all. I can’t stay in bed. There are five sweet messy heads who need me today. I am not quitting on them. I couldn’t choose to do that.
Sometimes, my morning choice isn’t about choosing to do what’s right – it’s about not choosing to do what’s wrong.
It’s a subtle tension there, a tiny difference in words rearranged on the page. But it’s a big deal in my heart.
And sometimes it’s the catalyst that helps me choose wisely in the face of my selfish desire to pull the covers back over my head.
It’s the push to help me pick brave when I want to rest in weak.
Rise and shine, my momma would always tell us.
Rise and shine.
As if we could choose how to greet the day’s arrival.
Rise and shine.
I guess I had better try to do both.
7 Comments
Rachel
Our struggles are *very* different, but now that I find myself suddenly caring for my mom, this is me, every morning. So even though we are different, we are alike in how our mornings feel.
And I find myself whispering “Even IF…” because of the sign in your kitchen (?) that you posted. “Even IF God doesn’t heal my mom… Even IF she dies… Even IF this is my lot for the next five, ten, fifteen years… God is still good and I will still praise Him.”
You are an encouragement. Watching you walk this path is part of God’s grace that prepared me, unbeknownst, to walk my path, now.
laceykeigley
This is an incredibly humbling and encouraging comment to me.
To think that my little sign could be a part of God’s grace is — unreal. Proof that God uses whatever – internet and strangers included.
Thank you for sharing – I will try to remember to pray for you in the mornings when I mostly want to feel sorry for myself.
Lana
It blesses me to see you thinking of others trials even though you are so deep in the trenches yourself. So, so many are so wrapped up in themselves that they never think of the trials others are going through. I pray that there is some joy in your ‘getting up’ today.
Margie Mason
You are so honest its healing.
Tracy Namie
I hear ya 100% – It’s those little ones that get me out of bed every day. And, try not to forget to celebrate with a grateful heart at the end of the day that you made it through another one! Love you, Tracy
laceykeigley
I will try. 🙂
Love you!
Sara
There is such Truth in your words.
“Arise with purpose”-a lofty goal, so often unattained.
But “Arise”-sometimes that’s all there is and it is
Enough.
Purpose comes a little later-in the hugs and sleepy smiles of the littles, in a remembered verse, in phone calls, in daily duties.
If I just “arise,” thank God He gives purpose.
You are ever so brave. Your friends see that. Even strangers see it. And surely, our God sees it….and there is applause is heaven for you and the Savior who made it all possible.