The Magic of Morning: a Five Minute Friday writing prompt
I’m joining today with the Five Minute Friday community of writers who write for 5 minutes about a one-word prompt.
The morning is my favorite time of day, as I slowly wriggle from sleep and step into the waking world. Before the day can demand anything from me, I rest in the solitude and silence that the morning brings.
My routine is relatively the same every day. Clothed in darkness, I gingerly climb out of bed trying not to wake my husband. He always stirs and murmurs a sleepy good morning before he drifts off again. The dogs are next, and as I open their crates I can hear them shaking the sleep from their bones while they yawn and stretch.
The three of us, me and my two furry companions, softly climb down the stairs not quite trusting that our bodies are fully awake yet to make it down at normal speed. I arrive in the living room, turn on a lamp and all at once, the darkness is illuminated with a delicate glow.
I let the dogs out into the black morning, their only source of light being the stars. I stand at the door for a moment, breathing in the crisp autumn air, somberly thinking to myself that winter isn’t far away.
I close the door and let the dogs be as I reach for the tea kettle and turn the stovetop on. More alert now, I step over to the cabinet where I keep my stash of different teas. I open the cabinet and a sense of joy washes over me as I decide which tea I’ll begin my day with.
It’s in that moment that I’m reminded of the magic of morning; the small gifts that bring delight and wonder that I have time to notice before the world wakes up and breathes chaos.
It’s in that moment that I’m reminded of the magic of morning; the small gifts that bring delight and wonder that I have time to notice before the world wakes up and breathes chaos.Tweet
Once the tea is made, the dogs are fed and back indoors, I reach for my Bible, journal, and a good pen. I cozy up under my favorite gray blanket and take my seat on our beige leather couch. My tea warms my body and I only set it down to extend open hands. I wait expectantly, receiving the Holy Spirit and all that He wishes to speak to me that morning.
I sit like this, hands open and heart surrendered, for five silent minutes. I don’t say anything, I don’t feel pressured to do anything. Only to be and rest and receive.
Afterward, I open my Bible and read God’s Word which always leaves me feeling rich with encouragement and love. I find God in the pages of Scripture and in doing so, I find my truest self. I call this sacred time in the morning my quiet time, reserved only for me and the Holy Spirit.
My quiet time routine tends to change based on where God leads that day, but it always includes silence, Bible reading, and prayer. Sometimes I’ll choose to listen to a guided meditation or devotional for that day, but I mostly leave it open for the Spirit to lead.
About an hour after all of this begins, I can hear my husband’s footsteps upstairs as he greets the morning in his own way. He makes the bed, his steps sounding like that of an elephant, God love him. I listen for those steps each morning, and when I finally hear them, a knowing smile slowly glides across my face.
He clambers down the stairs, and with a groggy smile, asks me how I slept. He listens to my response while reaching for the french press as he begins the process of brewing his morning coffee. The house fills with the bold, thick scent of Folgers as my husband pours himself a cup and heads to his chair to do a little reading.
This is the time of morning where I’m fully awake and he’s just waking up. We sit in comfortable silence as he reads his book and I finish up my journaling. I long to tell him all that the Lord showed me in my time with Him, but to not overwhelm his drowsy mind, I settle for a morning kiss and make my way upstairs.
And thus, the busyness of the day ensues. I shower off, get dressed, throw my hair in a messy bun, and sit down at my home office to get to work. But I’m ready and willing to face it all having spent an hour and a half in my Father’s presence.
My morning rhythm is a sanctuary for me, a sacred, safe place where I find some peace while the world seems to stand still. It’s where I lay down my sword and shield and can rest from the world’s weariness. It’s where I’m refreshed, made new, and where I feel God’s presence the strongest.
I’m drawn to the morning like a moth to a flame. My soul’s deepest longing echoes the words of Psalm 143:8, “Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you.”
The morning is when I intentionally give my whole self to God with striking confidence that I am unfailingly loved by Him in all of my broken glory.
May we all remember to behold more of God’s presence in the magic that morning brings.