Sunday Mornings, Twilight Zones, and Light

It's finally morning. After tossing and turning all night due to a way too high dosage of steroids for healing up laryngitis and bronchitis, I've thrown in the towel-- or, erm, tossed off the blanket-- and I'm up. As I write this it's 6:20am, my family is asleep, and even our nocturnal feline has cozied up for a nap. Still, I look outside knowing it's morning, but my eyes deceive me. Darkness. Starlight. The eery night time silence outside. Everyone is asleep. Not a car running or a bird chirping. Just me, my keyboard, and a sleeping B.

This whole scenario has caught me off guard.

Only in the winter in the 6:00 AM hour is there a nightly silence. A nightly scene cloaking the reality of morning.

How often do our senses mislead us from the truth?

If you haven't already caught on, I'm writing from that odd far too sleepy space, so please consider this a Twilight Zone episode of the blog.

With that said, I don't want to discount my thoughts because I think there's something important I'm getting at here-- at least I hope so, for both your sake and my own. So hang in there. Here's my question:

When we feel darkness, what if it is actually morning?

The night is over but the sense of it lingers a little while longer, confusing us. 

Morning is here.

Winter may have silenced and darkened the new day, but winter is only a season and unless you live in Alaska-- bless your sun deprived winter soul-- the light arrives.

 A new day, filled with 24 hours of possibility.

With patience, the light comes. And the good news? It's already morning so even though there is darkness around you, it's time to step into a new day. Begin fresh. Dream big. Make plans. See friends. Laugh with family. Love. Cook. Clean. Organize-- whatever floats your boat.

It's time to move. To put on the armor of light.

The night is almost over; the day is almost here..png