Author: Richard Carter
Morning: The mists are starting to clear. Both nasal passages feel fused shut. This will change shortly. A moment and I’m up and the swirl of things I don’t want to do later occur in a zombie like pattern of half stumbling actions. Blankets are drawn up and coverlet smoothed with my pillows dropped in an order unacceptable in Martha Stewart’s world, but quite common and expected in a man’s and this is a good thing.
Now it’s either to the bathroom for the night’s last pee or to the closet for sweats and socks and shoes. Still on auto pilot, I find my fingerless gloves and with still clearing eyes find my barbell , no herculean setup but adequate to remind my body I’m not through yet, as pressure builds in my head press after press, and finally my body is being shocked into an awakened state.
The curls done I make my way to the office to stretch and find the book, one I (almost) forget some mornings. The book comes up beside my ear; I strum the pages like a deck of cards and stop anywhere among them, and open the book.
Inside are scriptures categorized in clusters of 5 to 8, and as my breathing slows from the exertion I do one of the most important things I do in my morning ritual, I force myself to take in something good and not just pass over it but absorb it.
What follows is a glance at a photo on the bulletin board over my desk. It is one of two young men, arm around each shoulder. They are brothers in the truest sense and sons in an undeniable one. They are only two of five children that I haven’t always been near to. They all came home, though, in a sense. It is this realization, this thing that really starts my day, that makes me feel solid and each breath sweet.
The news that follows, both locally and worldwide, will have its effect as well. The negatives, internal and external will have their moment in my day, but the morning, it’s something it never was before. It is a positive, a moment to clearly see, not just that God has allowed me to wake for another day, but to realize that wonderful richness that can be present in the simplest of lives.
Thank you, Ricky, Raymond, Sean, Katie, and of course Kora. I Love you.