"The way to start a day is this--
and face the east
and greet the sun
with some kind of
that you made yourself
and keep for
The way to start a day is this--
Reach out your hand toward that small shadow toddling toward you in the half-light of dawn. Spindly legs and hair askew. He reminds you each morning that it is time to begin again, each day a reply to the one before. Greet him warmly, invite him close. This happy messenger boy of yours.
Listen gently to his early morning chatter while he stands by the side of your bed. You could learn a thing or two from this wee one about cherishing the unfolding hours. His little body pops with possibility, his joy for this new day uncontainable: black cherry yogurt and bananas for breakfast! Birds to beckon and beleaguer from the living room window! Boom-chicka-boom to be sung and hummed and whistled! An afternoon walk to the park where one can be as free and fearless as a wild cat!
Gather up his hopes for the day, prudently now. Then lead your spritely son to the kitchen, pull up the blinds, invite the light in, and place his breakfast on the table. Step away to pray.
Elohim, these are my son's hopes for the day: to be fed body and soul, to love the world and everything in it, to share his song, to honor his blessed body. Help me, orient me, endow me. I cannot carry his hopes alone so now I call upon you. Send me courage and kindness, strength and softness, fortitude and forgiveness to be my guiding stars, my consecrated constellations. You see, motherhood is a map I still struggle to situate, territory upon which I still tremor. Three years in, and I am still a veritable novice. Elohim, will you be my navigator through these long and curious days? That I may be my son's tender attendant and harbor of hopes. That I may respond to him with simplicity and serenity. That I may, above all, be a glimmer of your godly love. For I cannot. Alone. Only. With you.
These things I ask.
This is the way to start a day.