I wake in the morning with these thoughts in my head and will:
I will exercise today—vigorously.
I will eat perfectly today, all day—no cheating!
I will finish all the tasks on my to-do list.
I will clear my desk—and my other desk—and my other other desk.
I will clean my fridge and freezer out, throwing away all the items older than 2012.
I will sort my closet, turning all the clothes to face the same way.
I will donate everything I have not worn in a year—okay three years.
I will read more of my current book and spend less time on Facebook.
I will make those important phone calls and spend less time blogging.
I will check into the living trust thing.
And then I get up.
I take a photograph—okay, maybe more than one.
I trace a cloud’s path across the sky as I sit, bare feet grounding on the pebbles of my xeriscape.
I watch birds on the wing, and duck as hummingbirds spar over my head.
I stare at a flower open itself up to sun and bee and me.
I peek at my tomato bush to be sure it is still bearing fruit and is not under attack.
I breathe deep of God’s world, and pain at the wide swath of dark that still mars all these wonders.
And I thank God for redemption.
And I write a poem.
Well, at least I worshiped.