joy at o’dark thirty…

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It’s dark when my day starts.
Really dark.

I used to dread it…
starting the day in the dark.

Not so much anymore.

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Learning to count the grace gifts,
those small things for which I am grateful
has changed me.

Even at o’dark thirty
when I rise to start the taxi.

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There was a time,
in my not-so-distant past
when my entitlement led to sleeping past the sunrise,
a hot shower first thing in the morning,
and various comforts to meant
to keep this creature happy.

The irony?

I got those very things
I craved
every. single. day.

And, I wasn’t happier
than I am now at o’dark thirty.

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it was Ann
who taught me…

Eucharisteo
the Greek word for the act of giving thanks

and in the middle of that lovely word…

Charis…
the Greek word for grace

at its center…

Char…
the Greek word for joy

I’m learning that kind of joy
is far deeper and wider
than any haphazard happiness.

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It’s the joy
at o’dark thirty
when I have a few extra minutes
to start the day with him
because he needs me to drive him to work.

It’s the joy
in less than five minutes at o’dark thirty
I have with her
before she starts her school day.

It’s the joy
at o’dark thirty
of surprising him
with a spontaneous trip to school
instead of riding the bus.

It’s the joy
of watching the light
chase away the darkness
and knowing that the
Light of the world
has my day covered.

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Who knew there was
so much joy
at o’dark thirty?

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