Creamy Coffee Moments

At first, I hear nothing. Silence, I think. Like taking a breath after the tornado passes.... then life seeps into my realm with the gentle whispered "tick tock" from the kitchen clock, introducing more gentle noises of morning. The sweet bell dingles from the bird's cage as he playfully maneuvers for some attention. A steady little slurp keeping time to the clock while the dog cleans himself at my feet. A dull "white noise" of Chris' computer, blending the easy sounds together while I sip my creamy cup of java, hopeful of a great day ahead.

This time is mine. It fills me with joy, like the sugared cream I pour into my coffee. Hopeful of sunshine, whether it be rainy or not, my heart rests...knowing my boys are off safely into their days (well, as far as I can tell...there is always that "momma's worry" tugging in my heart)...yes, this time is mine.

Before I pick up loose ends and the scurry and bustle of the morning, I just sit with my coffee and "be." Just be. This is my time, where I can put my thoughts out onto the table and sort through them quietly, at my leisure.

There are always the thoughts of my children...falling or fallen away from me like leaves from a tree. My thoughts of Caleb are all I can strengthen him with by now... the blood running through his veins is his own now, whatever strength and wisdom and love I gave through it, are independent of my umbilical cord. My thoughts are all I can give him. I always hope he got enough of me before he drifted from my branches.

And, Seth, my dark little elf, still filtering strength while his heart gathers to leap... my thoughts are of more concrete things. Making parachutes for him with notes to teachers and grocery lists for his still-growing body.

Then, there comes, inevitably, the comforting ever-present strength I draw from my husband...thoughts of him are just like mist, wrapping about me in a constant cover. There is mostly gratefulness and peace in my thoughts of Chris. The "Chris" card on the table of thoughts is more a melting and powdery thing that enables me to carry on without fear or panic.

This is my time to spend with my thoughts. I spread out the cards on the table... my friends who need "prayer" for themselves or their children or their lives. I cannot separate my thoughts from prayers, and wonder if they are the same things? I acknowledge each of them separately, until it gets too much...too many... and I worry that someone or something will get missed.

That is when I know "my" time is ending... when I worry that something will be overlooked...when the world starts pulling me back to unmade beds, unsaid prayers, and ringing phones. I sigh. Shake the mist a bit... I so relate to Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter characters. I do what she would do... gently try to dissolve and blend two worlds together, until life becomes real, in a magical way. Time to go make some beds.



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In the real world, we are bound by time
We are bound by solid gravity...
In the real world, the laws of nature rule.

But in my mind...mist swirls, ideas grow
Without form, without reason
In my mind, there is nothing concrete.

Prayers are floaty things, heaven bound
Thoughts clinging to each prayer stickily
not trying to ground them, but to fly with them...