The Last Morning in September

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This morning the last one in September, I woke early to finish an edit and got sucked into simply reading.

As I read, I listened to the quiet house waking and the sounds of the day starting. At first there was nothing, then a twittering songbird, whistling briefly until silence again. Then a distant crow, and eventually, the kids’ on the street screeching outside while they grab the last moments before the school bus arrives.

IMG_5817In the hue cast by the closing pages of this novel, it’s become a morning that proves the day can be full of magic moments—if we pay attention and don’t ruin them. So many things can ruin them. Sometimes the days become worried by nothing we’ve done, simply the day’s own trouble. But mostly, it’s our own willfulness, our unwillingness to slow down and recognize what we’re really seeing, what’s really happening, what this chance before us really means.

And a day like this can bring me back to all the things our hearts and souls truly long for—the bright sounds and rich colors and bits of memories that pierce through it all. So many hidden little reminders of why we love this place we get to live in, and how full and happy it can be in the earth’s slow turning.

I needed this book because I need these reminders. I didn’t know it, but I do now. Life will pass and time will be gone and I could have known love in these moments that are ours to inhabit. Or I could still. Even in the moments that at first seem inhospitable, there’s the endless possibility of God’s great, boundless joy.

And we can feel it rising in the waking daylight like the best dare, like an invitation to unwrap the biggest gift of all….

[p.s. I’ll share the book soon….]

For the higher purpose,

Mick

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6 thoughts on “The Last Morning in September”

  1. your words created beauty and joy and happiness and a thrill for what words are supposed to do. like the ones we speak all the time kind of words. there is a great life-light we wield with our unruly little tonguey wongeys. thanks. i want to remember this weapon of love more than almost any other thing i can think of.
    love
    suz

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