good start

i'm beyond tired today. beyond coffee tired today. i'm so tired i'm not even remembering to drink it despite pouring it. it's sitting here nicely next to me. more an accessory than a drink. 

starting to wake up earlier {and rescue 5 a.m., right jon acuff??} to add in some writing time in the mornings has been incredibly helpful in a lot of ways, but in retrospect i'm not entirely sure that making that switch on the heels of daylight savings was the wisest decision. 

but it's a good way to start the day. 

exercise for my body.

exercise for my mind.

my day starts long before it starts.

now it's just a matter of actually going to bed to {maybe kind of} get close to enough sleep.

but that problem has been around since eve gave birth to cain, and i have a feeling it's not going away any time soon. though i need to actually try before i give in to the "inevitability" of the lack.

as much as my body often hates me when i wake up before the sun, my mind loves it. i get to enjoy this secret space and commune with God before the rest of the world rises and adds things to my day. i get to think through and pray through and write through a little sliver of what's happening in my world and at least try to leave it at his feet.

yes, i usually yank it back at some point during the day because obviously i can handle things much better than the God of the universe. all he did was speak the world into being. all he does is hold it all together. all he does is give life. clearly i'll be much better at taking care of my stuff than he is. clearly.

and that ^^ is why i need to come back to him each morning. because too often i leave this chair in the morning, and i tell God i've got it and he doesn't need to come too. he can stay in the chair and relax for the day. take the day off. take a nap.

granted, he knows better than to listen to me. {he's God, after all.} he knows i'll come running back to him because i forgot that i was never supposed to do it on my own. he's the parent that stands there in the entryway holding all of the things his children need for the day so he can hand it all off to them as they rush out the door.

except in this case it's not a lunch box, a water bottle, and a jacket. it's him. 

it's he, himself that he offers us. 

it's the truth that reminds us: "you cannot flee from my presence. neither height nor depth nor angels nor demons nor death nor life can separate you from my love."

and when he says nothing can separate us, he means nothing can separate us.

xoxo