Grace-filled God,

It’s 6 a.m. I have been up for an hour and a half, and it has been satisfying. In the quiet of the morning, I am with you and you with me.

I realize that I did not cheat time with my short night, because I have to recoup sleep in my afternoon nap, but I have gained the quiet, reflection and engagement I get less of during the heart of the day.

In my twenties and thirties, when I taught high school, I longed to be a morning person, so I didn’t have to stagger out of bed to get into school at 7:15 a.m., and nurse my coffee before dragging myself to a first -period Sophomore English class. I thought, an early morning would accommodate a more alert, reflective life.

I was right. In retirement I have transformed into a 5-6 hour per night person, rising an hour or ninety minutes before dawn in a quiet house, where prayer becomes more of a priority. And writing comes naturally.  I pray for 8-9 minutes, read something devotional, and something more political, then write, and I feel glad to be awake.

I worried that my erratic sleep could be a disorder, but then I read about someone who said,     ” I’ll have plenty of time to sleep after I’m gone,” I quit caffeine, turned over once, then got out of bed, and it gave me new perspective. Mornings are a gift; they no longer oppress me as they did for my first sixty years.  I usually wake conscious and grateful for a new day.

Thanks for the gift of an alert awakening, when I can seek your presence. I am living out a dream of earlier days, catching up on the mystery of the morning.