Deja Vu

This morning as I returned to work on the one month anniversary of when Brent caught the train to heaven, I was startled to see a replay of a blazing orange sunrise and pink reflection on the snow-covered mountains - a picture almost identical to what I posted right before the police arrived at my office Dec. 7. In that moment, I felt the Lord whisper: "I am the same, yesterday, today and forever. You are held by my mighty right hand."

A Quiet Morning Memory

It’s a peaceful morning. The grown up girl snuggles down into the soft comfort of goose down and memory foam for a few more minutes. Rises to fly through the morning prep routine. It’s a crazy morning. Horns honking, tempers flare. The guy drives his mustang as if he’s in a rally race. On the urban freeway. In rush hour. The grown up girl smiles, remembers slower days.


Smudged pink shorts, pudgy fingers and freckled nose hunch down to turn the roly-poly into a ball with a touch. It rolls easily around her cupped hand until she gently lets it down into the gravel and waits to make sure it uncoils and crawls before she moves on.

She leans over the railing across the urban ravine. Latté waves dance and foam as the creek swirls its way westward. How does the water run down that way when the road beside it runs up? Why is there a forest where the creek bows to enter the shadows?

“Could I float on my wooden boat, let go the string from the road shore, hang onto the nail mast and float safely round the corner into that place where no houses are?”

She’s pulled by the faint buzz of the drifting yellow jacket. Follows it to the corner beside the wooded lot. Four trees stand guard, tall creaking shadows cover the unexposed. Overgrown remnants of an abandoned shack lay piled at the back like dirty clothes. A deer slow grazes the thick grass. Darts away as she steps into the dappled shadow. Nothing else moves but the breeze.

The school bell buzzes. She’s late again.

Forty-five years later, the grown up girl is on time to work. She didn’t eat breakfast but she did roll the dog over for a tummy rub, water her flowers and photograph the interplay of light between the granite and the heavens. It’s a peaceful morning.

Sometimes I wake up grumpy. Sometimes I let him sleep.

Ever wake up grumpy? In a foul mood? Frustrated by the dog whining to go outside or the husband making a bit too much noise while he leaves for an extra-early breakfast meeting?

How long do you let your mood keep you "under the circumstances"?

Here's a new thought: Why not be happy?

Before you dismiss me as one of those feel-good, slap-happy, motivational speakers, please understand I've spent most of my life looking at life from "what's wrong with this picture?" So when my husband of 30 years said quietly, "You always go straight for the negative" I decided I didn't like that testimonial.

Granted there are some days when I can be physically and even emotionally despondent due to health concerns or circumstances beyond my immediate control. But this morning wasn't one of those. The dog was whining, as is her custom, and so I stumbled out of bed and down the driveway to let her take care of business. Many mornings I don't look around, but today, there was an unusual glow in the sky. I lifted my head to the most glorious sunrise I'd ever seen, then ran back inside for my iPhone to snap a quick picture. The light play on the billowing clouds just kept getting better so I grabbed my DSLR and ran to the back deck to capture higher quality images.

The dog was startled by my sudden burst of activity.

Then I had a talk with myself. How often do I miss the beauty around me by keeping my head down and wallowing in the angst that is normal in life? Even in the midst of exceptional crisis and tragedy, beauty exists to bless us, to remind us of the daily gifts from our Creator, who whispers with every sunrise, "I am (your) resurrection and (your) life." We just need to notice.

Why not be happy? Pouting is natural and reactionary. Positive is supernatural and intentional.

And it is a choice.

Practice gratitude.
Notice beauty.
Smile.
Let grumpy sleep.
There, now. Isn't that better?