In the Morning
Give ear to my words, O Lord,
consider my sighing.
The psalter is pushed back a few feet from me on the bed, pale blue ribbon cut between Psalm 3 and Psalm 5. It’s Monday, I think. Lauds.
It’s the psalter for no better reason than my unwillingness to go back upstairs and get the whole book. It’s early, and still black in the hallway, and I’ve already stumbled into too many things because I didn’t turn on the lights. There are extra boys in my basement. I don’ t want to wake them on their last day of their break.
The psalter was handy there on the desk. And it’s pushed back on the bed because my old-people glasses are failing me these days. I blame the glasses, not my eyes. It appears I need the old-er-people glasses now. I can’t see the hand in front of my face. But I could see it a half block away. My glasses sit idle on top of my head most of the time, until I need them and can’t remember where they are.
In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice
in the morning I lay my requests before you
and wait in expectation.
All the house is silent. I hear the bed creak above me, blankets rustle in the room next to me where the sweaty adolescents line the floor. The space heater hums along because Spring is still a little edgy in the morning. The birds are subdued, not the usual chatter while they pour coffee and gossip over English muffins. I imagine it’s oatmeal this morning, and perhaps some tragic news of a neighbor crashing into the clear backboard of our basketball hoop in the driveway. They keep their voices to a hush.
I’m a few weeks into a new rhythm, about as old as that edgy Spring, pulling me from sleep in the earlier hours. Changes in the cadence can lose me in confusion while they heighten my awareness at the same time. So I’m several lines in before I hear my own voice, whispering into the silence.
But I, by your great mercy,
will come into your house;
in reverence will I bow down
toward your holy temple.
Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness
because of my enemies –
make straight the path before me.
I keep reading aloud. The words sound like one long sigh.
The creaking and rustling become more frequent. And there’s enough gray light in my office that I know it’s overcast without pulling back the thin curtain. One small bird voice chirps into the emptiness, then hesitates.
There is no reply.
But let all who take refuge in you be glad;
let them ever sing for joy.
::
Psalm 5, my morning meditation It's a good day to read some David out loud. Photo: Resurrection Day sunrise
This is lovely in so many ways…thank you.
2012/04/09 at 6:39 AM
Thanks for stopping in, Kimberly. I appreciated your comment on FB about the bird chatter.
2012/04/09 at 3:33 PM
*sighing contentedly* your words refresh and encourage me this morning, friend. Thank you.
2012/04/09 at 6:45 AM
There is something about David in the early morning that grounds me.
2012/04/09 at 3:34 PM
It’s always a good day to read David out loud!
Praying for your rhythm. So thankful you came into my life.
2012/04/09 at 7:59 AM
Good point, Megan. There is no bad time for David. And David is best out loud. Thanks for your prayers. And I must say likewise. What a gift you are.
2012/04/09 at 3:34 PM
“My glasses sit idle on top of my head most of the time, until I need them and can’t remember where they are.” Too funny.
Sometimes it’s good to hesitate, to be silent. To. Just. Listen.
2012/04/09 at 8:37 AM
I find the need to hesitate a lot. And the world keeps going while I do. And that’s ok.
2012/04/09 at 3:35 PM
good words
2012/04/09 at 9:16 AM
Thanks, Davis.
2012/04/09 at 3:35 PM
Are these original photos? They’re great. Getting around to camera shopping is happening too infrequently here. Not that I’ll necessarily end up with results this good, but I can hope.
2012/04/09 at 1:18 PM
Hi, Monica. I still owe you an email! Most of the time, the photos are original. Sometimes I do a little editing, either softening or color correction. These last two of yesterday’s sunrise are untouched. When I’m out, I shoot a lot, get a couple of good ones. I was kind of delightfully surprised with this one because I had no idea what I had — I was shooting into the sun and couldn’t see a blasted thing. Just a lot of playing, and hope something comes out of it.
It’s a fairly basic Panasonic Lumix, a few years old. DMC-FZ7. Hope that helps! I’d love to see you with your camera out again.
2012/04/09 at 3:39 PM
Singing in joy when we don’t hear the reply. That’s sometimes the tricky part.
2012/04/09 at 4:30 PM
I agree with Megan…what day isn’t?! Thank you for ushering me into His Presence tonight, Lyla. Lovely.
2012/04/10 at 8:57 PM