I met God this morning.
But again, I didn't see. I didn't notice.
What is it with me?
Even with glasses, I am so blind.
Did Mary ever forget?
A book?
Now?
Right now?
It's 7:30am.
My coffee sits here hot.
I'd really like to drink it...hot.
A book would make it lukewarm at best.
It's 7:30am.
The hour for stillness to prepare and pray for the day--with my hot coffee.
Sesame Street plays in the background, but does not tempt today.
Did Mary ever forget?
"Lap. Up on lap," he says.
He crawls up with book in tow.
As I reluctantly make space, pushing the dark morning drug away,
he snuggles in close.
The warmth of fleece sheets radiate.
The smell of sweet baby lingers.
I breathe.
The Spirit fills me.
Looking into his eyes,
He smiles.
His big toothy grin
comes close and kisses me.
The morning sleep shakes loose and
I remember.
This was meant for my devotions this morning.
Holding the very face of God close,
seeing God's relentless love for me,
in that toothy grin,
and slobbery kiss,
that comes to me with no expectation.
Love that crawls up on this blind mess,
with hair frazzled,
who thinks a cup of hot darkness will truly awaken.
This is a Love who still comes.
A Love who longs to be with.
To curl up close and whisper again to me what my soul longs to hear.
You. Are. Loved.
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