Good Morning God,
I have waken with the birds as usual.
Dawn is here.
It’s my favorite time of the day. The house and its inhabitants are still sleeping. Except for the animals, who have been staring at me in the dark, waiting for me to rise and fill bowls.
I let the dog out.
The calendar says May 3.
Snowflakes fall on my eyelashes and
ices my daffodils.
I say a prayer of lament…
for God’s ears only.
God can take it.
The dryer buzzes, the washer turns, the coffee belches.
Cats hiss, dog regurgitates, unfinished homework lies on the table.
I realize I have had my hands in more poop before 6:00 a.m. than I care to admit.
I sit down to pray and read scripture.
I always open to the Psalter.
“I have waited patiently for The Lord; he inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the desolate pit, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock making my steps secure.” (Psalm 40:1-2).
Ancient words. Same challenges.
“My inequities have overtaken me until I cannot see; they are more than the hairs on my head; my heart fails me. (40:12)
“All I want is a normal life.”
Wisdom replies, “there is no such thing.”
It’s just life.
It’s wondrous and torturous.
Beautiful and painful.
It’s snow on daffodils.
Rather, look for the will of God.
“He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise.”
Do the birds outside my window sing for the morning? Do they sing for that which is yet to come?
Do they sing for no reason other than they are able?
They sing because they can. Snow on daffodils will not stop them.
What song would I sing if my throat was open and I trusted the cry to come out?
What song would you sing?
“May all who seek thee rejoice and be glad.”
And yet, and yet dear God, I cannot sing without you. I cannot sing without your presence as I go about the daily. I am impoverished for your strength and needy for your support. You alone are my help and deliver.
Do not tarry, O God.
Do not tarry.
Without you, I see only snow on daffodils.