Mornings on the Patio

As the early dawn sky peeks over the back fence, the world pauses. A hummingbird glides in soundlessly to sip from a garden flower. A ruffled gray squirrel forages in the dew-ladened grass.

The steam rises in swirls from my coffee mug as I glance down at my Bible and notepad. I've missed sitting out here for this morning ritual. The blazing Texas summer heat sequestered me inside until this week's unusual 60 degree mornings beckoned me back to my favorite place.

I lose track of time on the patio. Here, it's not just about reading or writing. It's about being. Being still to ponder what I've just read. Being quiet to listen. Being undisturbed to pray. Just being.

The breathtaking sunrise drives all else from my mind. Vivid colors splash across the sky as I sip my coffee in amazement. Just watching. In awe. Then my pen won't stop scribbling across the blank pages. Inspired.

By Him.

For Him.

In spite of myself.

Some time later, I slowly gather my things, drinking the last sip of cold coffee. The hummingbird appears once again. Thank you, Lord, for this time. You resurfaced a heart and soul dinged by the world. I'll be back in the morning. And I know You'll be waiting here.
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