Mornings really are something special, aren’t they?
Every day when I wake up, I glance at the little reminder on my windowsill:
“Start each day with a grateful heart.”
It’s simple, but it grounds me. Grateful for another sunrise. Grateful for Lou. For our kids. For my sweet Moose (always nearby). For good friends. And above all, grateful to God for another chance at this life.
I’ve always been a morning person. Back when I was teaching, I’d waltz into the faculty room practically singing, all “GOOD MORNING!” while everyone else was groggily lining up at the coffee pot, trying to blink themselves awake. The best part? That was before I even drank coffee. (I know, right?)
These days, the coffee comes first – thank you, motherhood – but the vibe is the same. I tiptoe into the day, coffee in hand, soaking in the quiet while the sun stretches across the sky. I say my prayers. I start checking off the to-do list. Somewhere in the distance, I’ll hear Moose’s paws tapping across the hardwoods or Lou shifting around in his upstairs office, starting his day too. We’re both doing our thing, in the hush of early morning light.
There’s just something about these hours. The world feels calm. My brain feels clearer. I get more done before 9 a.m. than I do the rest of the day – especially if I’ve had a good night’s sleep, a strong cup (or three) of coffee, and some sunshine on my face. If I sleep in? Forget it. The day flies by. I blink and suddenly it’s 3 p.m., I’m fighting the urge to nap, and it’s time to figure out what’s for dinner.
So yeah, mornings are my magic hours. And today, I’m just grateful to have another one.
