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. 

Mountain People

A strong Appalachian past

a history that so fast becomes today.

The generations before

though most of them were poor

found a way to love and laugh anyway.

Thankful for what they had

it didn't seem so bad this life of theirs.

Their family had food to eat 

and their hearts a gospel beat,

and as their toes tapped, up to heaven, they sent prayers.

The gentle mountain breeze

that flowed through the trees

blew upon the ones who came before.

They struggled and survived it, 

worked the land and thrived on it

so their children could have so much more.

A strong stock of people

still met under the steeple

to praise the one who had helped them again.

And on every Sunday morning,

through the window without warning,

you'd hear a "hallelujah" and "amen".

The mountains grew them

and the Lord, he knew them

and the streams watered them with love.

And deep roots it gave them

that time and again had saved them

and gave them something special to be proud of. 

For in their hearts it doesn't matter

though today most are scattered

around the world they will never forget.

That the ones who cleared the way

for those of us today,

did it with love and no regret.

So you Appalachian folk

continue to carry the yolk

of your loved ones who came before.

For they gave all they possessed

so you could feel so blessed

never forget you are them at the core.  

God in the Morning

I think it is in this morning time, as the sun begins to burn off the fog and the deer prints still remain in the dew that God himself waits for us. I am reminded of the song "In the Garden". It reads...."I go to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses.....and he walks with me and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, no other has ever known."

There is a certain silence in the morning that will not be found until the following dawn. A special gift given to those of us who live in a place like Whisper Creek, is that it is easier to hear the voice of God. I find myself looking out into the field in the morning. I sometimes wonder what it is I am looking for and then I realize I am searching for a promise that God is there. And then a deer steps out of the forest and looks at me. Or a chickadee lands on the tree limb and sings to me.

Morning time in my home is feeding time for the animals. I step outside only to be greeted by 12 cats who are waking up and stretching, looking forward to another good day. The guinea pigs have started their early morning whistles and run toward me while they await their turn to eat. The dogs all begin waging their tales in anticipation of a warm morning meal. When all that is done, I walk to the mailbox to get the morning paper only to enjoy my kitty escort to the box and back. The fish are then all awake and waiting to eat and the birds are chirping and reminding me that they are next in line. It is a wondrous time and one that always makes me smile. I think "This is what I live for."

It is in nature that I find God. It is in moments of peace, not in hours of sermons, that I hear his voice. We each must find our place where we can hear him. At Whisper Creek, in the gentle movement of the water, I look at my reflection. Behind me he stands. Ever gentle, ever present. He need not speak in words. He has spoken in his creation and part of his creation...how grateful I am to say it....is me.

 May I always be reminded of that and feel forever blessed.