Black coffee in my mug and I’m awake. And I don’t call myself a morning person. But mornings look a little less daunting these days.
I’ve had this peace lately, a peace I’ve sought for days-weeks-months-years. A peace that makes me feel awake and alive. A peace that makes me want to wake up: that’s a peace to celebrate.
I’m awakened to grace. I’m awakened to being perfect in Him exactly because of my imperfection.
I’m awakened to what is good in my life. I’m awake to counting my blessings instead of disappointments and disillusionments. I’m awake to justice and mercy and saying what needs to be said and saying it boldly. I’m awake in myself. I awake with joy. I awake with praise.
I know the day holds its challenges and maybe I’ll succeed but maybe I’ll fail. But with grace, I’m there. I’m present. When I’m awake, I close my eyes and fold my hands and whisper a sweet thank you to the One who wakes me.
I wake up because there’s work to be done and people to be loved and art to be created and community to be cultivated. This life is short and I’m awake.