I am up early this Sunday morning because I am fighting to take back my days and I am at the table with my favorite mug and there is ice cream steeping on the stove and a three layer cake on the porch and flour on the floor.  He is already gone, preparing worship and I waited until I heard the front door close before I slid out of the dark, dark room and ran to the porch to check that tall cake, back inside to slice bean pods and scoop honey and stir, stir, stir still mostly asleep but a little awake and happy here in this private space of early morning  because soon I will be in a large room with running, very awake, eager children and we will try to corral them for what will feel like forever at the end but we will have them in that room and hopefully somewhere along the way they will feel loved and they will learn to love the old stories that still leave me on the edge and then we will move to big church and then to the car and home for an afternoon of baking and sweeping until the friends arrive for dinner and by then it will be darkening and the day will be ending and so I am here.  Before this day that is bound to be wonderful and beautiful begins to boss and toss and pull me around I am here, having a seat for a good hour and I am tending to a soul that I have often neglected this new year.

I am  here even though it would be easier to slip early into the day, all caught up in choring and extras and that clock that is so loud inside my head and I am careful not to speak this whole hour.  I am careful to sip slow coffee and to have an honest share with The God found waiting inside a quiet morning.

And then, I will dash.