"Improve your spare moments and they will become the brightest gems in your life." – Ralph Waldo Emerson
When the new year started, I decided that I was going to change my morning routine a little bit. I was going to start having my breakfast at the dining room table, and do some morning devotions and Bible readings. Get the day off to a quiet, and purposeful start. I mentioned yesterday, that from the time I get up, until the time I like to go running, I have about an hour. I can usually squeeze in unloading the dishwasher, making my breakfast, eating, devotions, and some email (which really, I should just axe out of my morning routine but sometimes it's important) before that magic 6am hour. I started out really good, and stayed pretty strong with it right through until the late spring. Mostly because I wasn't running. In May, I started running again, and even then it still worked out OK. Then summer came, and I got into the bad habit of eating in front of my computer again, and my morning devotions fell to the wayside. Then school started, and my marriage seemed to be falling apart right before my eyes, and I lost the running and then the whole rest of my morning routine went with it.
Being the first one up out of bed, I usually just get up, shut my alarm off and leave. Lately, however, The Boy™ has gotten it into his head, that he would like to get up earlier and spend some time with me in the morning. The funniest part of this, is that he is not a morning person. He likes to THINK that he wants to get up earlier, but it really doesn't happen. However, his alarm goes off at the same time mine does, and then again 15 minutes later. For the past week and a half-ish, since returning back upstairs, I have let my getting up at 5am habit fall to the wayside. I've allowed myself to get back into bed, as he is shutting off his alarm, which is a minute slower than mine, and then crawl into his arms and be held until I decide to get up, as he drifts back off to sleep. Some mornings, especially early on after my return, he stayed awake and we had some really good conversations. I'm spoken before about how I like to 'hide' behind the darkness sometimes when I have to get the hurt out. Mostly, however, I've just lay there, awake, or half-dozing, and allowed myself to feel his arms holding me close to his heart. To listen to his heart beating, or him breathing, or even snoring. To lay there, and feel safe, happy and content to not get up and let the rest of my morning be a harried mess of rushing around. It was what I have needed for the past twelve days or so, and it has renewed me in a way I didn't expect. Today, as I lay there, I realized that it was going to be my last day, aside from the once in a while lazy weekend morning or snow day. I didn't feel that pressing need to just stay there, safely wrapped in his arms anymore. I feel like that is a good thing, and tomorrow I'm getting back into my routine.