A faint buzzing on the nightstand beside my pillow jerks me out of the sandman’s grasp. Numb fingers struggle to draw the cell phone toward eyes that struggle to distinguish between two choices on its screen: Snooze or Dismiss? A shaking lupus-challenged brain implores, “Why do I still do mornings?”
At this moment, my quandary really seems to have only one obvious resolution… don’t!
Mornings are severely over-rated! Why any sane lupus patient would continue to try to do mornings is beyond ability to understand.
Yet, this girl trudges on, each day after the next, telling herself each night that tomorrow will be different. Stubbornly holding to the subconscious notion that the next day will hold a glorious morning gusto, a feeling lingers that is faintly remembered from long past and healthier days.
So, striving each day to assert the “right” to try to inhabit the early hours of each morning, another attempt is made. Yet, lupus opposes these efforts, lashing out unkindly at mind and body, fighting every effort. Still, I fight back against my lupus!
The first minutes and hours are painful, slog-brained, uncoordinated and pitiful. But, calling to God for help and encouragement, I continue trying to do mornings! The persistent mantra “I will not be undone” plays over and over subliminally to cajole me onward.
Many days, there is only a measure of success. Nonetheless, determining with each sunrise that joy is possible, I try once again! The alternative would be defeat, far worse than any difficulty of this daily awakening battle.
Still, the question persists, “Why do I still do mornings?”
Once, long ago, the feeling of early dawn inspired me. The cool of San Francisco mornings, with a cloudy chill in the air, and myriad of birds chirping with joyful glee. The canopy of fog amplified their music. Their song and joyful carefree cacophony filled the crisp morning air with countless strains of hope and possibilities. The sting of salty ocean breeze hitting my cheeks and chilling my frame invigorated and awakened my mind and soul. These mornings were a touch of Eden, indeed, what God intended them to be. God made morning, and said it was good!
This is my vivid and stirring morning memory! I cannot let go of this potent picture of ideal morning. I still seek the simple joy of the dawn. Fondness of the early hours of day is part of the real internal me, before lupus. I can’t let go of my inner morning person. Not yet.
So I continue to try to do mornings, because I must believe small miracles can still happen. So I persist, and take small steps upon arising to make my body, mind, soul and spirit grow stronger: exercise, healthy food, mental activity and drawing near to God through prayer and reading the Bible.
Grasping the miracle of life’s brief fleeting moments, even mornings, I fight hard to redeem some part of each arising day. I still must somehow believe in mornings!