Before the Sun

I've always been a morning person. Lately, (due to hormonal influences, I'm convinced) I've developed the odd pattern of waking at least twice a week at about 3:30 in the morning, ready to start my day.

Believe me, I've made several attempts at "just lie here and rest" but my brain is on and the day has begun. So I try to quietly grab my workout clothes which are laid out each night before bed, and sneak out in the dark without waking my husband. I head straight for the computer and get more accomplished in the couple of hours before dawn than I probably manage the rest of the day. Well, not literally, but it feels like it.

That's my time. Early in the morning, moon still in the sky, crickets singing. Next door, the chickens haven't even roused yet. I workout in the cool air on the screened-in porch or sit on the futon with a cup of tea. It's quiet. No interruptions. Time to think. Time to pray. Time to breathe and remember--remember what I want to do with my day, remember what I was created to be.

For some, late night offers the same sanctuary. My advice? Embrace your time. Make it yours. You know when you function best. Allow yourself the indulgence, even when it "doesn't make sense" to the general population. I mean, honestly, when was the last time you heard someone making plans to be up at 3:30 a.m. and writing on their calendar? It sounds ludicrous.

But there is a part of me that smiles a sneaky, knowing smile inside, because when I can't sleep, it's actually very satisifying to have time for me. Even if it is before the sun.


(c) 2011 Sheri Smith Bertolini