Its pitch dark and a heavy cloud of sleep presses upon her
like the downy comforter in which she is curled up. In her dreams a bird is
screeching in her ear and as she fights to ward it off it slowly transforms
into a round metal ball. The metal ball continues to screech until finally the
noise penetrates a new level of consciousness and she fumbles through the
tangle of sheets and blankets to reach for the annoyance.
Groping blindly her
hand makes contact with the metal object, searches out the button and finally—silence!
Exhausted from her efforts to protect her sleep, she now rolls onto her back and
admits defeat. Forcing her eyes open, she searches the ceiling for the meaning
of life, waiting for her brain and body to reconnect and allow her to negotiate
her way out of bed.
Scuffing down the hall, her robe securely tied around her,
she is aware that certain parts of her anatomy are more awake then others. Morning
rituals must be followed. When she finally makes it to the kitchen she sniffs
appreciatively; the auto setting on her coffee maker is a life saver.
Taking the first cup black, she lifts the mug to her mouth
and sips slowly. This is nectar of
the gods she thinks. This is a holy
moment. She senses before she sees, her husband, ensconced in his chair in the
living room already sipping his coffee. He lifts his mug in silent greeting; he
knows the rule. No speaking till her cup is almost gone.
“There isn’t enough coffee in all of Central America to make
me a morning person.” She once told him and he believes it. It is safe to say
that early morning is not Jane’s
favorite time of the day.
The early morning routine rarely changes and soon Jane has
eggs frying while she tucks sandwiches into Sam’s lunch box. It’s amazing what
a person can do in their sleep, Sam has said, after watching her shut the refrigerator
door with her hip, while balancing juice, and a pot of jam in the crook of her
arm. Although occasionally an unintended item makes its way into his lunch (the
raw egg that was thought to be hard boiled comes to mind) Jane pretty much has getting
him out the door each morning down to an exact science, whether she’s fully
awake or not.
With Sam out the door and daylight still fuzzy on the
horizon, Jane pours a second cup of coffee and adds her daily treat of half and
half. Settling into her own chair, she is soon joined by a purring Marley. The tuxedo
cat stretches across her lap and lets her scratch him between the ears for a
few moments before taking his sentinel place on the back of the couch. This is
Jane’s quiet time.
The next thing of habit for Jane is a brisk walk through the
neighborhood. She rarely misses a morning, regardless of the weather. On a cold
or rainy day the exercise is especially invigorating. but on a sunny day she
turns her face upward and soaks it up. Breathing deep makes her feel as if she
could swallow the sun like a tall glass of orange juice.
Being a stay-at-home-wife and-empty-nest –mother means the
rest of her day is quite practically hers to command. Household duties are
easily interwoven with volunteer activities and outside interests. Doing
laundry or running to the bank, a trip to the grocery store or to the library,
women’s bible study, or preparing a meal for a shut in, all of these things
bring Jane fulfillment. Contentment is a rare gift but Jane has learned that it
is also a choice. Reaching out with both hands she grabs hold of it vigorously and
tries to live in the moment. Could it be safe to say that those are her favorite times of the day?
Yet, when Sam returns each evening and she hears the motor
announcing his arrival, a little pitter-patter occurs in her chest. Like the
nervous flips her tummy did when they went on their first date, or the way her
heart picked up speed when his eyes locked with hers, his return at the end of
each work day still brings her pleasure. She kisses his cheek and tells him
often that this is her favorite part of her day; his return. Watching his eyes
light up when she says this only makes it all the more true.
And yet… when Jane sips her after dinner tea and reviews her
day she is often surprised to realize how fast the day has gone. Keeping busy
will do that but for Jane this goes deeper. She has spent a greater part of the
day in her own company, something probably only an introvert can truly
appreciate, but she is also aware that she doesn’t really walk alone. The
presence of the Holy Spirit is always there, strengthening her, guiding her,
teaching her. And when she offers her humble prayers of thanks for another day
in His presence, she arrives at the conclusion that for every moment she recognizes
this, its beyond a doubt, the very best
and most favorite time of her day.
