everywhere we go, there soon emerges a morning rhythm. on mayne island i wake up before dawn, head outside, light the fire, and enjoy a quiet hour with the Lord—a slivered moon and faint pink sky to my right, the bay with boats and fishing heron in front of me. josh wakes while the rest of the house sleeps on. willow wakes, i nurse her, she climbs on my back for a hike at dawn to the neighboring bay. i speak in tongues, the animals draw near—the squirrel, three deer, a heron. He whispers kindness, understanding, sweet mysteries that i cannot forget. God is real, He’s good, and He speaks. willow plays with shells on the beach, the arbutus across the water glows a regal red. it’s 7:30, we return, my heart full.
