She emits five sighs that once were beeps. The Cuisinart brewer breathes out letting me know the coffee is ready. My wife on the other hand grabs the carafe before the beep. Forcing the cycle, trying to get that thirty-second jump on the day. I’ve never been a fan of mornings, preferring to unfold into the day slowly. Morning feels like the friend in Proverbs shouting, “Rise and shine!” It’s a curse not a blessing.
January feels like morning to me. A slow, cold start to the
rest of the year. I choose a favored coffee cup for the morning brew. We have
fifteen but I prefer about five. Generally journalling or reading a devotional and
a brief Bible passage. Too much lately I reach out for Instagram. Going to try
limit that this year. The cold provides an easier excuse for vacuity.
January is the jump-start for the year. The life calendar
eases up providing windows to look forward and back. Fortunate enough to be
able to envision hopeful dreams for the upcoming year. We’ve seen wrecks in the
rear-view but not as bad as some. Set some personal goals. Martin Luther King
weekend the wife and I escape town for marriage inventory. I have a list of
questions pulled from another author: If
the last year could be summed up in one word, what would it be? What new territory needs to be explored spiritually,
physically, emotionally? What are some things that MUST be done in order to
move my life forward? What could I do to make you feel more understood? It’s still early morning in January though; hard to know
what God will allow as the days warm up.
Going on five cups of Arabica
I still want to crawl back under the covers. Cold world, cold January, cold
morning. Goal setting is the little ember lighting my fire. The thing with feathers,
as Emily’s prone to say. Caffeine kicking in, undeterred by the draw of
the comforter, January holds promise.
