Another Sunday Shortie. A few quick thoughts, typed out fast, minimal editing.
Beautiful morning. The sun is shining, the birdies are all twitter-pated. Coffee on the front porch, stiff and black. Neighbors running leaf blowers way too early. A dog under my feet wanting a little rubdown.
I like freedom. I enjoy being single. Mornings remind me just how much I like this newest concept of alone time.
Most of my divorced friends and acquaintances remarried, many within a year of signing papers. On the whole, they seem happy with their decision but I’m suspicious enough to wonder sometimes. Occasionally, I ponder this foreign concept of life with someone who actually likes you and wonder how the mornings play out.
I’m guessing they get up and smile at each other. Stumble through coffee without getting nervous enough to hit the carafe against the counter and shatter the glass. No one gets angry about grounds spilled in the sink. They ask each other, ‘What do you want to do today?’ They might work together painting the bedroom or weeding the flowerbeds. They get more accomplished as two rather than one.
That sounds nice. It’s just not on my agenda.
Marriage is a commitment that takes work under the best of circumstances. I don’t understand those who want to jump back in so soon. Maybe there’s something missing but I’m just not sure I’ll ever get enough of this blessed stillness.
I Like It Here
Mornings were never my own. I gave away thousands to someone hell-bent on their destruction. Control was his thing. Keeping us all off balance, forever focused on the minutia of his ever changing demands made his day. And I am tired.
During those last few years before escape, I learned to find God in moments stolen between explosions. I’d sit on the deck, quiet my troubled heart and listen. No laundry list of prayer requests, no deliver-me-or-I-perish drama. Just me and my Creator and a few quiet moments to worship for His infinite goodness.
These days, I wake up slow and ask what’s on the Father’s agenda. I tell Him how wonderful He is. Coffee on the porch, then inside for some time working on His latest project. I tell Him about the kids as if He didn’t already know and ask advice on the latest crisis. Grab a plate of grits and head back out in jammies. He’s never complained, not once. My Lord makes me smile.
Nothing explodes, no one outlines my duties for the day, then tells me exactly how things will be done or else. God has yet to push me against the counter, trap me in a corner or block my way out of the refrigerator. I’m learning I don’t have to look over my shoulder all the time.
I’m free to serve God and serve others. That’s a privilege I don’t take lightly, one I don’t particularly want to give up. I do understand the Father can heal through new relationships. I also fully believe that the One who formed me in my mother’s womb can heal all the hurting places. In fact, I’m counting on it.
Now every morning, I turn to Jesus and see if He wants coffee. So far, He hasn’t taken me up on the offer but who knows?
There’s always tomorrow.