I stir creamer in my coffee and I am slow this morning. And maybe mornings are meant to be lived in the slow. I don’t know much about living slowly and I know less about the splendor of a morning.
The children sleep and I crush the serpent by simply sitting. Being. Breathing.
An hour passes and I sit. Robins chirp as they peck the ground for breakfast and I hear them.
I hear them.
I notice the movement of light all along the walls and stairs and hardwood and the sun comes into its own glory. God’s glory.
Twice in one week I’ve been reminded of the prophet Ezekiel and all of those dry bones. God speaks to me like this, in repetition. You, too?
The Lord speaks to Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?”
And I hear myself answer with Ezekiel, ” O Lord God, You know.”
Ezekiel prophesies and the bones rise up and then he prophesies again and their lungs are filled with breath.
And they come to life, as Ezekiel speaks the word of the Lord.
I tuck my legs under my body and I am that pile of bones. Bones and skin, in perfect bodily form, absent of the one thing that gives true life: Breath.
Time ticks away and I am unaware of the hour, lost in the breathing that my soul needs.
I inhale one bit of truth.
“Thus says the LORD GOD to these bones, ‘Behold, I will cause breath to enter you that you may come to life. I will put sinews on you, make flesh grow back on you, cover you with skin and put breath in you that you may come alive; and you will know that I am the LORD.” Ezekiel 37: 5-6
And my soul is hushed in truth.