6 AM

6 AM. Not 2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake, not it's 3 AM, I must be lonely. No, 6 AM. Songs aren't written about 6 AM. Know why? Because most good song writers are asleep at 6 AM. Most sane people are asleep at 6 AM. In case you hadn't guessed yet, I've been getting up at this ridiculously early time for two weeks now and am slightly annoyed that my body is used to it and now insists that this is the proper time for awakening.

And yet, maybe this crazy early risers have something right. A smile is a little a lot required when I see upstairs lit up without fluorescent lights and it makes the journey down the stairs a little lighter, being excited to be outside. Have you ever seen campus near dawn? I imagine most college students don't, or if they do, they're not really in the right mental state to enjoy it. Quiet beams of sunlight through trees instead of intense rays in the middle of the day or dying light at its end. Peaceful, easy sounds, not the noises of class change or afternoons in the quad. God's awake then, I'm pretty sure, getting the world ready for the day. I give Him the bike ride over to the planetarium and He gets to wish everyone a good morning through my mouth because goodness knows I would never sound so cheery of my own accord. Maybe I will miss 6 AM. Or 6:45, anyway.

My point is, I wouldn't have said this even a month ago, though maybe a year ago it might would have slipped out. I filled a notebook, finally, full of the prayers and thoughts of more than a year and I looked back at who I was, back in the day. I laugh at her hurts- does she realize how ridiculous she sounds, how small her pain was then? I mourn a little at the death of the optimist and the kid who hopes for justice- if they would have lived, maybe they could have changed the world. I scoff and roll my eyes at her objections- sometimes she just doesn't get it and sometimes she gives away the answer on her own and doesn't realize what she's got in her hands. Then I sit quiet for a minute because she just said something that sailed right past the shield of sarcasm and experience and stabbed my heart a little too much. I angrily whisper at the ceiling because she just prayed in absolute faith and that prayer didn't change a thing- not me, not God, not the circumstances, nothing. I stop in amazement because I see what this person, who claims to be me, said at the time when I would have been I would have been throwing darts at the Divine.

I don't know who to blame what on and in that case, I think it's best that blame gets laid aside. I don't believe everything I read anymore, I don't turn off songs because I can't listen to them and I've stopped thinking that with each new revelation I know everything. Maybe the idealist just slept, though, because hope had been a bit revived of late. Listen, it's a bit of a burden to be miserable, especially when it's self-inflicted. All those songs that I rolled my eyes at, that talk about being free and junk like that just because they have faith, they're making a bit more sense. Geeze, can I make my life a coming-of-age story on Lifetime? One day I'm going to grow out of this walking Hallmark card phase, and so much better for the world and probably you, dear reader. Maybe one day I'll learn to say more with less and then the world will definitely be a better and much less cluttered place.

But for right now, happily, I'm in the right place. After all, you always are where you're supposed to be. If you weren't supposed to be there, there would be someone else there. And God's going to use you for good no matter where you are, as long as you're trusting Him, as I was recently told. Maybe summer showers walking across campus washing away crazy expectations and extra makeup are reminders of that promise. It's 6 AM in my life and though I'm looking forward to the fireflies, I'm ready, for once, to live the day that passes before they come.