Godly Mornings

It's another Tequila sunrise. Well ... not really but the song fits the morning. The sunrise was nice and he's resting now in the branches of the Palm Trees. An ocean breeze keeps it cool reminding me of the Trade Winds in St. Martin. Go off-island and its hotter than hell! On island ... it's a different story. This clump of sand is packed with people. All of the hotels are full and the The Breakfast Club looked like a bombed out Beirut the moment it opened ... so I left. Early morning runners are running, walkers are walking and I coast by them on my bicycle making my way to the quietness of the Beloved Back Deck. It's my new routine. For decades, I got up and rushed. After gulping down coffee, I ran five miles, showered without ever really cooling down and drove the 17 miles to work, where it never stopped. When I got there people were lined up to see me. Many days, as soon as I opened the car door, people were asking me for stuff. Many evenings when I left, they escorted me to the car and talked until I slammed the door. I learned how to live intensely. I'd come home and be so exhausted, I'd make my way outside and just sit on the Back Deck, staring into space ... completely spent. "Why does he do that?" Chelsea blurted out what everyone else was thinking one night. Everybody else shrugged their shoulders. The sad fact was that I nothing more to give. I'd given it all away that day. Over three decades of daily being such a good Christian, I crashed and burned. It wasn't pretty. At the end, I was sitting at the head table of a Chamber of Commerce political event and my friend Robin Wheeler sat at a table right in front. On Face Book, she'd made me laugh that morning and we'd exchanged a miscommunication which made it funnier. So it must have been shocking to see how bad I looked and I remember her looking at me with concern in her eyes. It meant a lot and I've never thanked her. I need to do that. That was two years ago. Now my Puritan tan climbs on a bicycle that doesn't get drunk like it used to and we make our way to a happy home. All of the girls are asleep most mornings so Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog, and I make our way to the Beloved Back Deck, now bathed in sunshine that has driven the darkness away. And I have a couple of hours just for me. This time of year, the Jimmy Buffett station streams on Pandora as I think, pray, write, text, or very occasionally talk. I'm pretty phobic about checking on Sarah to make certain she's alright so I jump and down a lot. Sometimes one of the girls wanders out ... sleepy eyed with skewed pillow hair ... wanting something. Most of the time though ... it's the song of an ocean breeze, choirs of birds, blooming Hibiscus, smiling Palm Trees, Fran's thousand shades of green ... and I swear most mornings ... it's as though God Herself sits in one of the deck chairs next to me ... propping her feet on the rail ... having a shot of something while She appreciates everything that She created ... and we talk. She actually doesn't say much so I do most of the talking. But She's a good listener. Unless I'm traveling, that's every morning now. I feel blessed though I've lived through hell. It's a good way to start a day. And I have no plans to leave it. As I told God this morning.