Alone in the Morning

Last night, I slept by myself for the first time.  My son, Michael Anthony, Jr., has wanted to sleep with me a few times and I have had one of my sisters here and two of my closest friends staying in the house and they were taking turns sleeping in bed with me, so that I would not need to wake up alone.  Yesterday, my friend, Nanette, who lives in Australia, had to fly back home.  My sister, Julie, was back in Boston.  My friend, Adrienne, was flying with her family to Oregon for their Spring Break.  My sister, Jerri, is on a business trip.  I am down to my parents, who are from Michigan, and staying in my guest bedroom.  I asked my son if he wanted to sleep with me last night.  He said, "If it is okay with you, I would like to sleep in a sleeping bag in the girls room." He said he had slept great in there the night before and wanted to try it again.  I, of course, gave my approval and walked quietly back to my bedroom, alone.

My sleep was sound, but then it came time to wake up and realize that Michael's side of the bed was empty.  This was a bittersweet moment. The bitterness is for the obvious reasons. The sweetness is that I woke like that every morning, because Michael was an early riser.  He was either already in prayer, reading his Bible, exercising at River Hills, or walking the dog.... and in that order.  The rare times that I would wake before him, mostly on Saturdays, I would enjoy turning my head and just staring at him.  He slept on his stomach but slightly pulled up on one side with one arm up over his head on the pillow and the other tucking in the corner of the pillow under his chin.  I would stretch my leg across our king size bed to rub my foot on his or to feel his calf.  If it was summer time, he might have slept without a shirt, and, in cooler weather, he would wear a soft, cotton, long sleeved t-shirt. (The children and I are all taking turns sleeping in his favorites.)  Either way, his lovely back muscles and his amazing arms showed through. He had beautiful skin everywhere because his back, chest, and arms did not have any hair.    I liked placing my hand on his biceps.  If his head was turned the other way, I liked to look at the wild little nest of messy hair that would form at his crown because of his curly hair.  Believe it or not, he also smelled sweet in the morning.  I think he wore deodorant just because it was the thing to do... but I knew he smelled sweet all by himself.  If I were to get out of bed before him, I would often times lean down and kiss him on his cheek bone, near his eye, before leaving the room.  Most of the time, he slept through it.

 We both preferred praying out loud and our morning routine allowed us to do so.  I woke up this morning and just lay still in the silence. I had not realized how comforting it was to hear his morning sounds coming from downstairs.  After I pictured him and listened to my memory of sounds, I began to pray aloud.  Then, I had a sudden realization how my habit of what I always prayed and prayed for was going to have to change.  I have always had a pattern to my prayer life...thankfulness, acknowledgement of His power and presence in my life, praying God's will, welcoming His kingdom power,  and forgiveness .  Next, my prayers always turned to Michael.  I heard a female teacher at a church years ago say to all of the women present, "If we aren't lifting our husbands up in prayer and surrounding them with those prayers, who will?"  That comment took my breath away and I had to repent. Since that day, I had prayed for Michael every day.  Sometimes he may have even gotten a double dose of prayer if there was something special going on that day and I would pray for him throughout the day.  I prayed that he would remain set apart for His purposes. I prayed that his heart, soul, mind, eyes, and ears would be protected from the ways of this world.  I prayed, "Your kingdom come, Your will be done," for every area of his life.  I prayed for creative ideas, daily. I prayed for clear thinking. I prayed for refreshment. I prayed for his wisdom and discernment. I prayed that the favor of God would rest upon him. I prayed for new business deals that were always on the table. I prayed that his gifts would always be used to glorify God.  I prayed that he would hear the voice of God. I prayed for his employees.  I prayed for his office building and everybody, and everything in it.  By the time he walked out our laundry room door, he was walking on clouds. He was always energized by the prospect of a new day... the power of prayer.

So, this morning, I naturally started down "my Michael path of prayer".  After beginning, I stopped short  and felt lost for a moment,then I instinctively prayed for Dale Partners, the architectural firm with which he had just merged.  After having done that, I was overcome by God's presence with the knowing that all of my prayers for Michael had been answered.  I am overwhelmed. God really had stood up on His holy hill and heard my prayers and came to Michael's rescue every day of his life. The magnitude of that is taking me to my knees.  Morning time has always been my favorite time of day.  I enjoy the way life eases back into being.  Since Michael has left, the mornings have been the hardest part of my day.  I cry more, remember more, and seem to need him more.  This is why I have chosen to write in the morning hours.  I am still doing all of those things, but I am able to direct my emotions and memories on specific things.  I want to focus on every aspect of our lives together. I am thankful for my alone time with Michael's memory this morning.  I miss him.  Psalm 119:147 "I rise before dawning of the morning, and cry for help; I hope in Your word. My eyes are awake through the night watches, that I may meditate on Your word."