morning :: finding Light {200-206}

i'm not a morning person. not by a long shot.

maybe this is a negative aspect of my life. perhaps i should enjoy rising before the birds begin to twitter or the sun paints the world gold and pink and pale shades of blue. but i don't, honestly.

but these past several Mondays have been mornings of rising at half past five and stepping down from warm bed to pre-dawn chill to meet the Chicago rush of commuter traffic. i'm having to learn to change my views on life, on mornings.

it's not something i enjoy, but it's something i'm embracing. and isn't that what eucharisteo is about, this thing of grasping the mystery and soaking in the unknown? even this time of year, these moments of Christmas celebration with the green and red and flickering candlelight

isn't this all about surrendering? 

about following and stepping from comfort zone to holy ground? 

and so even among the commutes and the too-much noise so early, i continue to count one by one by one.

• 200. peppermint hot chocolate 

• 201. the blend of sacred and Earthy found in this month. the way He paints my path with gold and dust and speaks "know Me here by this name, dearheart."

• 202. a father's laughter and stimulating debate as we drive too-busy roads and play the music just a little too loud

• 203. love found in the tiny wife guiding her tall, blind husband to his seat and the tenderest caresses when only touch communicates her face. 

• 204. children's innocence with their off-beat clapping and their misstep dancing and the way they speak of "gold, Frankenstein, and myrrh" before giggling with blue eyes dancing. 

• 205. feeling my characters become real, taking flight under my fingertips as paper becomes blood and ink becomes breath. it's intoxicating. 

• 206. finding Sarah Kay again and finding my spoken word again. it's strange and raw and so frightening. i could not love it more. 

and so amid the bustle of the Japanese sisters sharing coffee and too-loud laughter, and the Italian cluster of gentlemen arguing with hand gestures and rapid tongues in a language i wish i knew, we're conversing.

He and i. 

we have our silence in the noise, the moments i can feel the silence. it's a kiss, an embrace.

it's the ending dream, and the touch of morning.

{linking the count of gratitude with Ann}