It is morning time again. I turn on the lights, read a few verses of the Sermon on the Mount, say the Jesus Prayer and do the Sign of the Cross. I dress for the day, then walk outside to pick up the morning paper, and I wave at my neighbor in his blue pajamas. I walk into the kitchen, start the coffee, prepare cereal and toast, and pack my lunch. I scan the day’s newspaper as I eat my breakfast. I arise from breakfast and put my dishes in the sink. I fill my mug with coffee, and I turn off the coffee maker. I head downstairs to brush my teeth and check my hair one last time. I check my necessary items for the day. Cell-phone—check, keys—check, work badge—check.
Driving through my neighborhood, I see the routines of the day. I see an elderly neighbor in her nightgown, two ladies walking three dogs, a bike rider in a reflective vest, and a jogger on the sidewalk. I pass the gas station and notice early risers filling their cars and getting a morning cup of coffee.
I turn onto the southbound highway. I look to my left and see the sun just beginning to peak over the southernmost hills of the Appalachia. Many cars are on the highway already. A city garbage truck is in front of me, and delivery trucks are all around.
I am the third to arrive at work, the other two early birds have arrived ahead of me this morning. I notice one drove his truck, and I guess that his car must be in the shop. The second person has parked next to a shade tree instead of his normal spot on the second rod.
While at work, many others in my city start their routine by opening stores, dropping off children at school, going to appointments, delivering packages, and hundreds of thousands of other routines.
I am the rare morning person. I do not got get my morning energy from prayer, bible study, caffeine, or food alone. I get my energy from the normal and mundane routines of life, both mine and those around me.