The emotion of morning makes believing more possible.

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Opportunity,  like sunlight through the tall trees in the side yard, is almost here. If I am patient and look towards the morning as it spreads across the day, I choose to believe.

If I am patient and look towards the morning as it spreads across the day, I am sure of my choice to believe.

Quietly, assuredly, right on time.

It’s no wonder I love the morning.

I love its clarity and confidence, love its comfort and cocoon-like embrace.

I woke feeling slow and tired, disguising discouragement in more acceptable words.

I woke in need of the morning.

Like choice of word, I sometimes ride the fence of emotion.

Choose to look too far ahead or too far back.

But, morning gives a chance to pause, gives reason to believe.

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I  read Matthew 13, a series of little stories. Jesus using them to teach about choices. How to plant seeds, care for them and how you should let the weeds grow amongst the wheat.

Later you’d know what didn’t belong and you’d harvest good things.

Jesus talked about heaven as a treasure, a pearl and about the smallest of all seeds, mustard that would grow tall…so tall that birds filled its branches.

I thought, “Thank you, Lord, I so love the birdsong”.

 

And morning, reminded me then, aren’t we worth more than many sparrows if we would only believe it true?

The people were confounded by His parables, found them ridiculous and nonsensical.

So, he left them there with his stories.

And he did not do many mighty works there, because of their unbelief.

Matthew 13: 58

I go back to the side yard, abundant in bloom thinking again of choice.

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Then, decide to pray and to believe.

The bigger and heavier the disdain, the more powerful and possible the prayer.

Deciding to believe, choosing to pray.

Believing in mighty things.

Every morning

 

 

 

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