I am not a morning person, plain and simple.
No matter how much I’ve willed it otherwise, I get my best work done between the hours of 9 and midnight. When the sun goes down, a magical dust settles on my house and I can suddenly accomplish whatever I need to do.
And yet. As surely as I can count on the sun rising in the morning, I can depend on two miniature human beings in my house hitting the ground with a chirpy “Good morning, Mommy!” right at the crack of dawn.
(Wait a second while I Google blackout curtains.)
This morning was no exception. Today my oldest child returned to school. It’s all he’s been able to talk about since his last day of school in May. His book bag has been packed for two weeks, and I knew even before I peeked over the top of my comforter (my eyes barely open) that he was standing in my doorway dressed and ready to go.
So I am learning to love the morning.
Or, perhaps more accurately, I am learning to love what the morning brings. Like a child approaching the living room on Christmas morning anticipating beautifully wrapped gifts, I open my eyes at the sound of my alarm with the confidence that God’s mercy for today has my name on it. No matter what yesterday brought to my doorstep or what tomorrow promises, today’s mercy is sufficient for today.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness (Lamentations 3:22-23).
No matter how confident I am that I failed yesterday or skated dangerously close to the edge of my capacity, or struggled under the weight of a stubborn be-setting sin, today’s mercies are new.
Today–and only today–I have enough mercy to handle today’s challenges, whatever they may be.
I’m not crazy about mornings, but I sure love mercy. Don’t you?