Is it morning or not

2:58 in the morning. I lay there awake and once again turn to read the time. It's too early to get up Lord. (It was more of a question that a comment.)

I closed my eyes. I did my best to snuggle into the covers but then I was too hot. Rain was falling. I could hear it through the half open window. I like that sound. Maybe that will soothe me back to sleep.


3:01 and I wonder if at what time I can appropriately call it morning and not have to lay there any longer clock watching.

Shorts, t-shirt, tennis shoes, head set - I turn on the treadmill and begin to walk nowhere other than through my thoughts. Guess anything after 3:00 is morning to my body. I'm walking at a good pace but something is different this morning. I'm not singing. I stare out at the darkness and the nothingness that surrounds me. My head is not swimming with ideas. My heart feels heavy and as I give more thought to it, the headache I've had since yesterday is increasing.

I don't have a singing voice but I love to sing - isn't that the most unfair thing you have ever heard? So, I sing when no one is around which at 3:30 in the morning, even the cats are curled up on the couch asleep and will not have to endure the sounds from this princess.

And I got nuthin'

Try as I might to click and select a song on the ipod, I can't find one that will help me bring back the joy I've allowed myself to be robbed of. I want to say the joy that was stolen from me but felt that wasn't taking ownership and since I feel everything else that's not right in the world is my fault and everyone else who is feeling down or angry is that way because of me - I should also harbor the blame for my lack of joy.

I was told that exercise is good for depression. No one said my joy would return. hmmm So...what then does this time on the treadmill do for me when depression is looming like a heavy, dark, low lying cloud which explains my weeping - must be raindrops.

I prefer to cry alone. I don't cry often but lately, not often is becoming more often. I prefer to maintain around others. When I cry before the Lord, He always
has the right thing to say and just the perfect gentle, comforting touch to bring me through the moment or the misery. He doesn't ask me questions, wonder why or offer suggestions as if I had not already thought of them. He is just there, which most often is all I need, someone beside me who loves me and is content to 'just be' with me.

People on the other hand, often times unintentionally, don't say what I'm needing to hear or do what is best to do for me. I know because I've worn both sets of shoes.

Back to singing and joy. As a norm, when I wake up songs are on my mind and inside, I'm singing away. But this morning it was like the well had gone dry. Even listening to music didn't prompt my lips to move or compel my voice to bring forth a tune even if it would cause the cats to cover their ears.

It hit me that it could be I am in the midst of a storm. I most certainly do feel like I was in a boat on a stormy sea but now haven fallen over board. I'm not ready to investigate whether someone threw me overboard or if in my clumsiness, I fell in, but here I am, attempting to tread in rocky waves. The sky is filled with menacing clouds. The thunder roars. Lightening flashes. The boat is still near
but I can't see from my panic view if anyone is in the boat or even knows I no longer am.

I haven't been in a whirlwind like this before and I'm not quite sure what I'll do. I'm not quite sure what comes next. Will a mountain slowly rise from the depths of the sea in front of me? Will I swim to it and stand at the peak victoriously?

I'm not even going to play with those thoughts.

When I was a youth I loved storm watching. Whether from inside the house peering through an open window or on the back porch. What a magnificent view and the sounds the heavens orchestrated were grandiose and commanding and oh the joy that filled my being!

But in the midst of this striking storm, the outlook is nothing but turmoil. The sounds are vociferous. My joy has been exhausted.