The Hourglass

Thirty-Three

I slept fitfully last night, leaving me feeling exhausted this morning. It's only seven-thirty in the morning, and I know Chelsea won't be awake yet. I wish I weren't, I think. I groan, stretch, and attempt to rub the sleep from my eyes. I stare at the ceiling momentarily, trying to clear my thoughts. 

I had several weird dreams last night. Dreams where I was being chased, where I fell off a cliff, where I was attacked, and one where I was with Adam. I kept getting separated from him in a crowd. I'd search for him, and every time I'd find him, he'd reach out his hand for me just for us to get separated by a sea of people again.

I shake the dreams from my thoughts, trying not to linger on them too long in search of meaning. They were just dreams. I get up and go to the kitchen to make coffee. I'm enjoying the silence and comfort of my apartment again as I go about my usual routine. I make a bowl of cereal to go with my coffee and set it all down on the kitchen table. I hesitate for a moment as I go to sit down. For some reason, I have the urge to grab my Bible.  

I walk into the bedroom and pull it out of my nightstand. It's been a couple of months since I've opened my physical Bible and read from it. Usually, I just read a verse of encouragement on my phone here and there. Today, I feel the need to read it, though I'm not sure why. I carry it out to the kitchen and set it down on the table, ready to read it with my coffee and cereal. 

I randomly open my Bible and land on the Psalms. Psalms seven and eight are before me on the page, and my eyes are drawn to Psalm eight. I read it slowly, pausing on verse four: "What is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them?"  I ponder on this verse. 

Yes, what is it about us, Lord, that makes you care? I wonder. I think of my own life and how little devotion I show Him compared to my father. I could understand why God cared for my dad. My dad prays and reads his Bible faithfully each day. He attends church every Sunday, helps the needy, gives to the poor, and does whatever else he feels God is calling him to do.

I pray occasionally and seldom read my Bible. I never go to church. I believe, and I try to live according to the Ten Commandments, but it doesn't go much deeper than that for me. I never really saw a reason for it to be more than that.  As long as I didn't intentionally hurt others and accepted Jesus as my savior, wasn't that enough?  After all, I was told once that all I had to do was believe and accept it. So I did. No one ever said I had to do anything else to be saved. 

I grab my coffee mug and bowl and take them to the sink to rinse them out. My brain is already tired of thinking, but it's only been an hour, and I know Chelsea will still be asleep. I go into the bedroom and pull on my athletic attire, grabbing my headphones so I can go walk the pond at my apartment complex. 

 I play my music loudly and concentrate on the lyrics as I walk, trying to drown out my own mind. The morning sun and breeze feel wonderful on my skin, and I try to be present in the moment and enjoy it instead of allowing my thoughts to consume me. I walked around the pond several times. More people join me as the morning grows later. When an hour has passed, I walk back to my apartment so I can take a shower, sure that Chelsea will finally be awake by the time I'm finished. 

I get undressed and toss my clothes in the hamper. I need to do laundry this weekend, too, I remind myself. I walk into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My red hair is straight and flows down over my shoulders, stopping just after my breasts. My eyes are green but appear dull compared to Adam's piercing color. My skin is fair, and I have light freckles that scatter across my nose and cheeks. I study my reflection and wonder what I will see in Adam's painting. 

I leave my reflection behind and climb into the shower, ready to wash my anxieties away. I take a hot, steaming shower. I take my time and allow my muscles to relax under the warm water. I take my time shaving, knowing I'm not in a hurry or tied to any schedules. When I finally emerge, my mirror is completely covered in steam - no longer able to reflect my appearance. I prefer it that way. It didn't previously bother me to see my reflection in the mirror, but now I feel exposed by it.