Sounds of Summer Mornings

This is my last morning waking up with all my blankets!  Tomorrow, I'll be waking up with either no blankets or all of my blankets piled Desdemona style on top of me plus Doug's blankets.  Doug's coming home tonight from Camp Rainbow Gold.

The first sound I hear on summer mornings is the frantic meowing of Callie, who loves to be outside at night but must be part vampire because she spazzes and starts wailing when the sun comes up.  She learned from Calvin and Charlie to peek in the window well to our downstairs bedroom and meow at us.  I learned to hide under my blankets or throw a pillow in the window; if she can't see me, she quits moaning.

Summer mornings are full quiet anticipation of upcoming possibilities.  At 5:00, when I finally tire of Callie and get our of bed for breakfast and (when I'm my best) study, I hear nothing but the sounds of my furry entourage: purring, a tail thumping happily on the carpet of my craft/study room.  Possibly joined by the sound of food boiling over on the stove.  Sometimes Callie gets her poofie and I hear her little bubble blowing noises as she waits for me to throw it again and again.  Callie, the cat, is a master fetch player.

Monday, Thursday and Saturdays, the first human voice I hear is the voice of Tawnya.  We enjoy talking all about kids and life.  Since there is a dog with us, our conversation goes like this, "That's the cutest!  Did you get a picture? HEEL TUG!!! Yes, it's a marvelous job.  I'm so blessed. TUG!!! FOR THE LOVE!! YOU'RE PULLING OFF MY ARM!!  MOMMY SAID HEEL!!  Yes, Doug said so too..."

Some mornings are spa mornings.  I play Christian music on my way to Ahhsome Spa.  At the spa, the background music is Jim Brickman, Debussy, David Lanz and some weird electronic mood music they find relaxing (the most obnoxious is synthesized singing monks... of ALL the music in the world, they had to pick that...).  All I can hear is the hum of other people's machines, the occasional sigh of comfort when a massage chair gets just the right spot, and the beeping of somebody changing the settings on their foot machine.  Occasionally I hear a snort when somebody wakes up from a fish tank and moves to a jade chair.  I hear the pages of my own book's pages turning and my own pen clicking as I scribble edits into my novel or add thoughts to my Sunday School lesson plan.

Some mornings are music mornings.  I usually practice in the basement at work, starting around 8:30.  I worry about practicing at home because if I get too sucked into my playing, I may lose track of time and be late.  At work, I hear the beeps of the keypad unlocking the door, the beeping of the security system, the "System Disarmed: Ready to Arm", then I run downstairs and make noises on my violin, or music on my accordion, until I hear the footsteps of my coworkers or the beep of the microwave heating up my second breakfast (always eat at 5:00 then again at 8:45ish).

Wednesdays are Gold's Gym mornings.  I hear techno versions of hymns in my head while I filter out the suggestive tracks in Body Pump class.  I enjoy the clean songs and the wordless ones.  I hear the clink of barbells and the voice of my spunky, instructor, Michelle.  I hear my muscles thanking me for using them.  Afterwards, I talk Rock Tape and chiropractic with the lady with the bunion who noticed my taped ankles.  I hear my clearest, slowest version of my speech.  After class, I run laps around the gym.  It takes ten laps, dodging treacherous obstacles (big men marinated in strong colognes carrying barbells), to run a mile.  I hear the sound of my own feet, and I hear my mind yelling gratitude for the day my chiropractor straightened my leg so I could run!

Some mornings are cleaning mornings, delicious with the thump thump of the unbalanced but amazing Bosch washer, and the hum of our first dishwasher, the roar of the vacuum and accompanying jingling collars of retreating kitties scared out of their wits when the broom comes out.

I think today feels like a swimming morning.  I'm off to the Aquatic Center.  I check Lindsey Stirling's pre-ordered album for new songs to download then rock out to her new song on repeat, singing along, on my way to the Aquatic Center.  I love the sound of the water rushing by my ears as I swim my laps.  I like how voices of the distant class of retirees echos off the walls.  After my laps and hot tub soak, I hear the refreshing shower in the locker room and the conversation of retirees discussing health concerns, civic activities and genealogy.

My three and a half hours of deliciously indulgent personal prep for the day end at the office.  Im the last few minutes before I clock in, I pick out whatever I'm craving musically on Pandora: traditional Turkish, Peruvian pan pipes, French accordion, Dvorak, Piano Guys... whatever suits me at the moment.  I answer the early bird phone calls and hear the voices of patients I love.  I recognize each team member by how she opens the door and how heavy she steps on the tile.  When the clock strikes 9, off goes my music and on comes Air 1,  The office bustles to life in preparation for a wonderful day of service.

We recently read a book with a chapter about being audio, visual or kinesthetic learners.  I'm an audio learner; words and sounds stick in my memory.  So it's important to fill my mind with words and sounds I love!  They are my fuel for the day.

Blessed are the Merciful

A few weeks ago, I really wanted an important blessing from God.  I didn't really think I deserved it, but I still desired it.  I started coming across opportunities to be merciful and the scripture kept coming to mind:

"Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy."  -- Matt 5:7

Throughout that time of working and anxiously waiting for the desired blessing, I took the opportunities to be merciful.  If I was in a position of power, I used that power to bless those with less power around me.  As a result, when I reached the end of the waiting time, the blessing I wanted still really mattered to me, but I had plenty of back-up happiness and completeness stored up just in case it wasn't granted.

It was granted!

Another opportunity to be merciful came up yesterday.

It was the end of a day of extremely good and extremely bad news.  My heart was achy and tired.  (My heart literally aches in my ribs when my feelings are intense... kind of a cool early warning system that I need to take care of something.)  I opened my mailbox and saw a letter from the company that covers the driver at fault in a recent fender bender.

He was definitely 100% at fault, but I don't think the details will add to the message of my post.

And the letter said his company was placing me at fault!

I felt the nastiness of anger welling up.  Now anger doesn't do anything good for anybody.  It doesn't even make people run faster.  It just makes us hurt.

I started to think of dumb options for responding to being falsely accused.  Then I thought, "It's 7:00.  I need to eat dinner and visit my boy.  I CAN'T feel like this!"

I started to pray and used an emotion code response to draw out and get rid of all the anger, frustration, betrayal and other nasty things I felt.

I thought of my State Farm agent.  I know, from my work, that an agent doesn't work directly on the case, but I just wanted to ask him if my insurance rates would change because I was being placed at fault.

My agent is also a friend of the family and a mentor figure.

When he called back, he listened to the story of the accident and what the other driver had done afterward, and I said, "I don't want to penalize him or cause anybody any hurt.  I just want to not have my rates go up."

He assured me that they wouldn't. We caught up with each other's families and friends

Then my next thought was more Christlike and merciful.  I said truthfully, "I feel bad for him that he has to worry when he's falling asleep at night."  I had a wild desire to call the other driver and offer forgiveness, but I think life, or eternity, will give me a more appropriate opportunity when it is time.

It was amazing to me that through a small merciful choice to not be angry, I was given such peace and love and relief from my anxiety in just a short five minute call.  I had a whole, unworried heart to offer to my boy.  I took him out for Almond Dream Bites and a walk by the river and was even able to draw on this experience to help him get along with somebody he has conflicts with.

"Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy."