Abba Father:
It is still dark,
Here seaside,
Though I rose at 4:30,
This brisk winter day,
As usual.
Same time I rise,
Every morning of the work week,
I am a creature of habit,
My usual.
Same routine,
Same type of coffee,
Usual eight squirts of cream.
Then I get into,
Our prayer place,
And, I pray,
And, I listen,
And I pray more
Until between us,
The sweet usual,
Peace and reassurance,
Hope for the future,
Comfort for the day.
And the sun peeks,
Over the rim of the horizon,
I smile because,
There’s nothing usual,
About God’s grace.
                         dfav 1/29/16
—Donna