It’s Sunday morning.  The emergency department here is quiet; I have time to sit in the office and write this post.  I left my house and family at 6:30 am.  My wife kissed me goodbye while the children were all asleep.  One had migrated, silently, to the foot of our bed.  The others were lying still in dark rooms, the only sounds the whippoorwill in the woods, the soft breath of children and occasionally, the cricket that has taken up residence in our bedroom.

I said my prayers for my family, for my day, for my patients and went into the cool, September morning.  I drove past the pack of dogs that live in loose association with our family.  ‘Be good dogs!’  I said to them, as they looked at me suspiciously. 

Driving down the highway through the misty air that covered my car in dew, I watched the morning come to life. 

I’m here, at the hospital, waiting for patients.  At home, my wife is rousing the children, getting ready for church and going to pick up our nephews and niece for church as well. 

The Church Universal, here and everywhere (in this time-zone, I should say) is opening its doors.  Songs and prayers are being lifted up.  Families are together in worship, in struggle, in difficulty, in learning. 

After church, there will be lunches in homes, or in our case, lunch at our favorite local Mexican restaurant.  The day will move on, relaxed and peaceful if God wills it.  I’ll be here, wishing I were with them all, laughing, praising, teaching, eating, playing. 

But I’m where I need to be.  Here, I support my family.  Here I am available to those in crisis.  Here I can demonstrate to my children the value of work.  Here I can see another, different, kind of wonder; the wonder of humanity, the wonder of a quiet morning to start what may be a busy day.

There are holy things all around.  Husbands, wives and children; churches and lessons; meals and jobs; play and work; sickness and health.  Smiling sons and daughters, sleepy hound-dogs, dark mornings in which prayers seem to fly straight up to heaven on the first rays of light. 

I pray you all have a day filled with such.  And that my family, and yours, is safe, filled with love and joy, and surrounded by peace.



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