On Mornings.

I’ll tell you why I love the mornings. I love the mornings because they’re so hopeful. They are fresh. Unspoiled. Saturday mornings are the best. Lazy. Unscheduled. A breath of fresh air for your soul. Sometimes on weekend mornings I will lay in bed for a few moments before rising and think of all I have to be thankful for—good health, and good friends; my family members, and a roof over my head. On those mornings I greet the day with an extra measure of gratitude and contentment.

But, other mornings, like this morning—I find it difficult to be grateful. Five years ago this morning my father fell down a flight of stairs in our home, and my world turned upside down. This morning I find myself fighting the haunting images of the last five years. This morning I find myself hurting all over again for my family members- for my dear Mom who has been forced to play a role she never desired, who has lived out her marriage vows to love “in sickness and in health” –for dear Little Sister, who is still seeking to work through the pain of the last five years—for four dear brothers, who will never again have a memory of their father water skiing or playing basketball with them, or tackling them in a game of football. And, I hurt for myself- for the lies that have wormed their way into my soul, for my own issues of mistrust in God, for the anger that threatens to consume me at times.

Mornings like these I find myself mourning. I grieve for my Dad- for the scars he bears on his body from a tracheotomy and a feeding tube. For the emotional scars he carries- the emotional scars we all carry- from a world turned topsy turvy.

Though this valley seems to stretch endlessly into our individual futures and mark us as a band of bonded sufferers—through the valley, I glimpse another morning. A greater morning. A morning that will rival all other mornings, and will provide more than just a breath of fresh air for my soul.

I long for that day, when all my questions will be answered, when so many traumatic memories will be but forgotten shadows—when the Bright and Morning Star Himself will invite myself, and my family to enjoy an eternal morning.

Until then, I keep hoping. I keep praying. And, I keep pressing on.

So faith bounds forward to its goal in God,
And love can trust her Lord to lead her there;
Upheld by Him, my soul is following hard
Till God hath full fulfilled my deepest prayer.

-My Goal is God Himself, hymn

Photos of sunrise at the Grand Canyon by my dear friend, Kristina.