let the morning.

Canon Rebel T2i

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.”

I rolled over to put my face in my pillow to block out the morning light… again.

1pm class. 10am alarm. 7am wake-up.

But the words replayed in my mind unconsciously, as an overtone in the background noise of a shower and a dryer. I Googled the verse: Psalm 143. I climbed out of bed and dug through the one box I haven’t unpacked to find my old Bible (the one with the notes and scribbles). Psalm 143. Nothing. No note. No tangible reason, no memory of the time I learned the verse.

And that’s when it hit me.

As many times as I say, “love never fails,” it will take me 10,000 more times to believe it without disruption in my regard.

As much faith as I have, part of me says, “I’ll see it when I believe it.”

Because so far in my life, I’ve failed at unconditional love. And I will never, never master it until I reach my home.

And a part of me thinks that love has failed me, but I know that’s not the truth. Because the loves that are- or were- once true still stick with me today.

I thought about living as the dawn breaks and I noticed how quickly I’ve transitioned into morning just by recognizing the dawn.

The way, once we own up to being imperfect, to hurting, to not knowing where to go; how quickly we find our direction. How the dawn illuminates everything. And maybe it takes one glance, one person, one heartbreak, one hello, one change in perspective to be in the light for good.

I am hopeful this morning is my morning. I am hopeful this direction is my direction.

Not the true direction, of course, but the discovery of the next turn on the GPS’s overview.

And this is me being okay with not knowing what’s happening now, which is different from the way I used to be. This is me being okay with not having it all figured out. And this is me taking a left when I think I should be taking a right at the next traffic light.

Because, if we listen to our compass- our GPS, for lack of a better word- we know where our journey will end: home.

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