I guess it’s hardest in the mornings. Early, before the light is sure, before my mind is sure what’s real today. Everything is shadowy and I can’t tell if the sun will come back. Reaching for habits, I hold on to unfamiliar familiarity, knowing this is what was here yesterday, but feeling as if it doesn’t fit, as if it doesn’t want to and I don’t want it to. Shadowy, but there aren’t any shadows. If there were, I could know something was real, because only real things cast shadows.
I think I woke up too early today. I wrote so I’d have something to hold for balance. As I finished, God’s sweet birds started singing outside my window, and I realized life was ok after all. I’m sharing what I wrote in case you have fuzzy mornings, too.
Does God re-make the world every morning? I feel pretty formless and void when I wake up, and nothing around me changes that impression.
I miss being sure, but I’m not sure if I was ever sure. I know it’s always been an act of my will to be sure. That much is sure.
Does everyone feel this way before the first cup of coffee?
If so, maybe I should start drinking coffee.