Stumbling Into Morning

Yesterday, I drank from my son’s cup.  Paisley flowers, curlicues, creamy colored. A cup, bought by a still chubby, middle schooler on a church trip with his friends. He came home, announced, “Here, I got you something.”

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So, I drank my coffee, turned my back from the window, the morning so heavy with fog, no desire to gaze towards sunrise.

I read of a man in the Book of John, unable to move towards the water, to be healed.

Scripture defining him as “an invalid’.

Him and many others, others who’d decided to go down into the water, to believe they might see change; to be an invalid no more.

To be valid.

But, he couldn’t figure out how to move towards healing; he didn’t believe he could move what must have been just steps away.

He couldn’t step. He expected he’d fall, an invalid, after all.

 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?”The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.

John 5: 5-9

I thought of all times I’m paralyzed, unable, unwilling to try,  until I stumble back towards the water.

 I thought of the invalid; vowing to never to use the description again, recognizing how low a feeling it is to doubt one’s validity. 

Walking outside with dogs as morning requires, I noticed in the lingering fog, the pear tree beginning to bloom.

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The blossoms barely there against the full of a bland sky, insignificant on this less than optimistic day.

This morning I’m drinking from a different cup. It’s lined in the color of bluebird. It’s a funky little cup, my daughter’s. A big, healthy hog etched in the center of its round edges.

My daughter loves pigs, goats, cats, dogs, cows, livestock, in general. Her bridal portrait on Sunday will have a backdrop of peach blossoms and trees spread so far and wide, for miles it seems.

This morning, I sat with her cup.

The sky spoke, saying…”You can’t imagine the day I have for you, Lisa!”

So, I moved towards our big backyard, looked up and knew it was true.

Not just today, but so many more to come.

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Stumbling, prancing, walking slowly or simply standing still in the early morning

If I could, I’d count these birds of this morning, their voices all a flutter.

I’d touch each blossom of the white flowers of pear tree and I’d know undoubtedly the significance, the validity of my every day.

I’d write on my heart, in my palm with a  sharpie or somehow remember more strongly…the beautiful mercy of believing and stumbling into morning to be healed.

 

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