A Morning At The Lakehouse

-Written March 11, 2007-

I remember at Sarah’s lakehouse waking up to her sitting beside me on my bed, her hand on my neck. It was amazing, the best way to start the day. That’s a little of what I felt like this morning getting up early and reading God’s word. It’s harder to grasp, and you have to fight for it, but I think that’s the idea behind it. God wanting us every morning to feel so overwhelmingly loved and wanted. There’s no other desires that live in that instant. You’d rather have nothing else, and there’s no other place on earth that would offer you more. You are perfectly content, complete, whole, and beautifully captured by that mystical moment. You are connected to the creator. And for that time, the world is how it should be. It is put back together. And nothing can prevail against it. Except maybe her mom calling that breakfast is ready. Those pesky little reminders that the real world is waiting just outside that door. And the only hope you or the world has is if you bring that holy moment out to them. As if it depends on it. As if that jump in your step, that sparkle in your eye, that foolish grin that steals your face is the only thing holding everything together, and that maybe if you don’t smile, no one else will. But that the light in your heart is stronger than the darkness that surrounds. And after that moment in time that seemed like it just froze, after that’s over, that the darkness is just waiting to be pierced. And you live to live, because you know tomorrow morning you’ll wake up to the most wonderful moment once again. The moment you open your eyes and beauty is staring you in the face. The moment that you begin to see. The moment the world is put back together.