A Good Morning

 

One of my favorite jobs of all time was as a security guard at an apartment complex in Rialto, CA. Despite its online description as a place of resort living, it was ghetto-ville with a cool name, but I loved it. My shift was 6pm to 6am. I monitored the apartment gate, got to know the residents, learned that cursing somehow got respect, and found out who was selling drugs and who was beating their wives. It was entertaining to say the least. I was chased with a knife by a guy threatening to kill his girlfriend and threatened again when I found where the drugs were stashed. Fun, fun, fun!!!

Being there overnight was what I loved. When the world was falling asleep, the sounds that you least expected could be heard. Believe it or not, there were crickets in the middle of the city. Reminded me of home. The stray cats came out at night and walked around the complex with me (and yes, I did manage to take 2 home). Few people would be out after 2am, so I was alone with the sounds of the night except for the radio that tied us to the security guards in other complexes. I walked and walked the complex which was quiet large, and I just listened. 

Around 5 am, the world would slowly start to awake. The newspaper guy would enter to make his rounds. A few people would trickle out. It was hope of a new day. I watched the sunrise in the east and wondered what my family was doing back in Tennessee. It was with that hope and with those good feelings that I would go home to sleep for a while. 

The summer mornings here, now, in Tennessee remind me of those Southern California mornings, yet even better. The sun rises in the east, but it is now filtered by the maple trees that shade the property. The birds sing, something I did not hear too much of on those warm Rialto morning, reminding me that God speaks in all creation. 

I watch the cats stretch as some get up from a nap while others are just going to bed after a night of exploring in the field above the house. A few tree frogs still croak before retiring until dusk, and the earthworms retreat to the dark, moist ground below. The dew glistens on the tips of the grass blades like diamonds and the deer return quietly to the woods. It is a glorious way to start the day. 

On warm, summer mornings like this, it is almost as if I can see the Divine Parents of us all in the mist of the morning fog. I can see evidence that they passed this way as hints of their foot prints in the dew evaporate in the morning sun. And I can hear their whispers carried in the warm breeze as it caresses and envelopes the honeysuckle growing wild. I know, without any doubt in that moment, that they are there and everything is going to be okay.