We sit across from one another at the breakfast table, we two; a precioius time for us each day; an oasis in our busy lives.
In a house that is so often full of people, this is when we are usually all alone and can share our burdens and hopes and prayers.
I stir my oatmeal. Steam rises from it. While I wait for it to cool I sip my morning nectar--black coffee.
Paul looks sleepy.
"I was awake at 4.30," he says; "the birds wake me up every morning at that time with their singing."
"You know, they settle down and go back to sleep after that," he says.
"Really?" I wonder out loud, "I wonder why they sing so early then."
Paul says, "Maybe God wanted someone to sing about his glory when every one else is asleep!"
And this makes me think of some lines about birds that I wrote:
Birds sing in the bath too
I heard them today after the rainfall
From hidden places feathered throats exult
In God who made them and who made me too!
Yes, birds sing in the bath too,