Some mornings I wake-up, and aside from the typical grogginess or unmotivated attitude to move vigorously through my day, I find myself more than just a little complacent. I find myself almost weighted down by a feeling of melancholy. Some mornings my body arises, but my spirit feels defeated. Lingering along the periphery of my mood is a sadness, a nagging inkling that something is amiss, or that something is wrong.
Call it depression, call it hormones, or call it whatever you wish. I just know it leaves me wishing I were back in bed with my eyes clamped shut, covers tucked under my chin, and my thoughts turned off for a bit longer.
As it stood, I knew my thoughts were dwelling too heavily on situations beyond my control, and I found my worries over my circumstances adding to my bitter, morning mood. I pushed forward, as I suppose most of us do, but underlying my actions to get ready ran the steady river of a bad demeanor, and it seemed persistent to stick there.
But suddenly I heard a small tapping at the bathroom door. I opened it ever so slowly, and there stood my sleepy-eyed five year old.
“Can you come cuddle with me?” She asked.
And she waited patiently until I complied.
I crawled with her into my bed, and her small frame tried its best to fill the divet in the mattress my own body had left behind. I scooted up against her, she laid her head in the crook of my arm, and I brushed the fine, wayward hairs off her forehead.
“This is my favorite part.” She whispered. “Laying here with you. It’s my favorite part of the morning.”
I rubbed my hand back and forth gently down her slender arm, and I realized it was mine too.
Whatever situations ailed me, whatever persistent problems tugged at my heart, in the end there was this. There was now.
And this was my favorite part.
A long work day might loom before me, but for now a loving child lay beside me. And that was my favorite part.
No matter how hectic and stressful my shift may be, I knew I’d come home to an adoring husband, darling children, and a home warm with love. And that was my favorite part.
If the situations I faced didn’t work out like I wished I would still have so much to be thankful for. I could focus on what didn’t pan out, or I could focus on all the things that did.
Whatever my struggles, or problems that came my way in life, when held in comparison to my many blessings they fell flat. And that was my favorite part.
This world was full of strife, but God’s goodness always won over.
And that was my favorite part.