Sunlight is popping over the horizon
but a poofy cloud blanket is keeping the bright beams at bay.
Silver crowned, hands scarred and healed and scarred again, a man places his book at the long table and goes to the counter.
“Morning.” A true smile. “Just a regular coffee.”
Other men begin to fill the long table.
“Here you go sir.”
“Thank you. God bless you today.”
In a booth by the door, two women are talking.
Well, one of them is talking. And wiping her eyes.
Her ancestors probably came from a land in the northern hemisphere.
The other woman, somewhere closer to the sun.
Resting on the table next to their water cups, their bibles are closed.
I don’t think their hearts are.
Doors swing open on the SUV that just parked in front.
The buzz-cut is a simple look but the story in his eyes isn’t.
Two miniature versions bounce around from the other side,
half his height and half again.
They could be Russian nesting dolls… Asian nesting dolls.
The boys are scanning through the glass at the menu
before they even make it to the door.
This is a special morning.
Getting up to refill my coffee, an excuse to peek at the book on the long table.
Waking The Dead, by John Eldredge.
Well amen.
Let Your Light Shine