The other day my first thought upon just waking was, “How delicious to be so comfortable...” The ellipses (...) here represents the desire to continue the feeling, since as I was just barely coming to consciousness, and too loud, or firm, or articulate a thought seemed likely to cause it to dissipate. It was a feeling as much as, even more than, a thought. The silky bamboo sheets, the pillows (one for hugging closely and one cradling my tousled noggin), the warmth of the fluffy blanket, and the metered ticking of the bedside clock combined and left me with a recognition of how blissfully relaxed I was at that moment. You cannot manufacture that amount of comfort reliably, you can only provide the attending preconditions and hope it comes. It is fleeting. Either you fall back to sleep (if you have that option) and have odd dreams and wake later feeling gross, or your mind starts working and urging the day upon you, or quite possibly, if you have reached that age, your bones begin to ache.

(The one thing that would improve it, well, I can think of many things, but one reasonable thing, would be the scent of coffee and bacon following about three minutes after that first cognition.)

I love when I wake like that.

Other times my first thought has been “ugh;” a guttural grunt even in my head, followed swiftly by one eye slitting open to glare at the clock, hoping against the betraying sunbeams sneaking around the edges of my light-blocking shades, willfully hoping that the clock will agree with me that it cannot possibly yet be time to get up. The sun lies! The clock lies! I want to lie- here in bed for another hour or two. And the day arrives unwelcomed.

In between these extremes there is the recurring first thought and feeling, “I just want to be held.” This is during a season of longing. This one will wake me in the night as well. And what is it that I am after? It seems like a homesickness for heaven, a loneliness that no person in the world can soothe, an assurance that there is something out there that is drawing me in. Not something, of course, but Someone. A thing could never satisfy loneliness. My very soul in these times desires a cradling, a togetherness that is like occupying the same space at the same time, a physical impossibility, but a potential reality of the spirit. “You in me and I in you.” John 14:20. That. That is how I want to be held. Like hope, it is not quite satisfied or it would not remain. It hurts while it hopes for fulfillment, sometimes mildly and sometimes quite strongly. It reminds me there is something more. It whispers to me to listen. It invites me to pour out desire. It feels mutual. It builds my expectancy.

That first thought reveals my heart. And sometimes, it seems to reveal His.

Photo at sunrise in the Smoky Mountains, October 8, 2018 at the home of a gracious friend.