When I get to the hospital, I park in the furthest parking lot.
I need the walk to prepare for my day of chaplain-ing, and at the end of the day, I need the walk to transition back into mom mode. It’s part of my self-care.
But this morning was the first morning it was still dark when I arrived, and it seemed extra still and quiet somehow.
I watched other people arriving, mostly nurses this early, and saw them cut across diagonally for the shortcut into the tunnels that take us to the elevators that take us to our respective floors.
I stay on the sidewalk, because it is lined with bushes and trees. The wind picks up as the storm clouds roll passed us in the sky above, and the earth comes alive around me. I think of the verse in Psalms about the trees clapping their hands, and I feel their applause cheering me on as I push forward this early morning. It is like a hug from Heavenly Father, and I feel that He is pleased… not because I did something or haven’t failed yet today, but just because I am His daughter.
When I do make it upstairs to my office, I watch the sun come up as I eat my oatmeal.
The colors are just starting to change on the trees, and it’s a beautiful morning in the city.
Nathan is at home, wrestling with feeding tube tapes while the children are busy in the playroom.
He gives them bagels for breakfast, and I am sad I am not there (and sad I am not in pajamas).
I left them homeschool work to do today, and he has activities planned, and I am glad that I do not have an overnight shift tonight.
I am weary from this week, and honestly admit I will be glad when my work today is finished, and I left in the crisp afternoon to walk past my trees again, giving them high fives for our good work today.
I will be glad to go back home tonight.