Hands Stretched Out

Psalm 119:66,111-112, 147

Teach me good judgement and knowledge,

for I believe in your commandments...

Your testimonies are my heritage forever,

for they are they are the joy of my heart. 

I incline my heart to perform your statutes,

for they are the joy of my heart. 

I rise before dawn and cry for help;

I hope in your words.

Mornings are calming, my new realization.  Awaking to the dark is a bit disconcerting but has a way of putting life into perspective.  Honestly, 5:15 AM can be a kicker, the to the curb kind, if you allow it to be.  Then again, it can be quiet, still, and breath regulating, too.  Amazing how the reality of night's remaining presence when coupled with the orb of God's words, paints a picture of His grace.  In the darkness of my self and the pre-dawn morning, God's grace shines through with the sun's rays.  Then, He fills my cup with new grace every morning, just as the sun rises to fill the earth with brightness after hours of pitch blackness.
Tuesday morning, I was dressed, ready to walk out the door, my lime water and lunch setting on the cabinet, keys and phone laid by the back door; however, I wanted to give the pups another few moments of careless abandon.  To them throwing the ball for them to fetch is for me, the same as being able to sink my toes into wet sand licked by the ocean's waves.  And, they get this privilege every morning.  As I heaved the ball into the field behind my parent's house, my eye caught the mountains rising behind and the sun's light peeking through the leaves dressing the trees in their backyard.  The goldens had located the ball but were involved in the usual ploy.  One dog drops the ball nonchalantly as if not caring about it the least; while the other, walks towards the sphere innocently and at the last minute, dives with reckless abandon.  But the last minute dive is to no avail.  His nonchalant friend had schemed to the point of teasing and picked up that precious rubber toy faster than you can say 'drop'.  Their game was on repeat.
So, I continued to stand on the porch.  It was chilly for an August morning.  I sigh breathed as my hands stretched out from my sides, my head leaned back, and my eyes witnessed the trees waving their morning hellos.  I just stood there.  Clouds dotted the sky with patches of blue fighting to shine past the white dots of fluff.  It was a minute's time.  Just a second in the span of eternity, yet it made a mark.  A reminder to look up to the hills, the heavens, from where my help comes.  To fix my eyes on the joy of my heart.  To keep in mind my heritage, His testimony in my life.  Too quickly, the clatter of puppy's paws and wet noses on my knees brought me back to the wooden deck boards beneath my feet.  To the daily call of another 19 minds needing to be fed facts, support, and the love of Jesus. 
So the day continued.  The normal drive to work.  Incessant needs of fifth graders called to me throughout the next 7 hours.  I conversed with co-workers about the usual.  I walked along the path He set before me.  Through it all, I kept returning to His hope and the morning's gift:  mountains pointing up to the heavens to their Creator and my Redeemer.  What might be considered a normal day's monotony became reason after reason to keep my hands stretched out.