The Rhythm of My Days

In a conversation with one of my sisters, I realized that I haven't exactly been faithful to my promise to my family and friends that I would be more communicative now that I've been off Facebook. I have been writing blogs, but they've been as my sister put, very "philosophical" and not very informative about my day-to-day goings on here in the Northwest. "I just want to know what you had for dinner last night!", to paraphrase my sister. :)

Now, it wouldn't be very authentic of me to completely nix the philosophical blog posts (after all, the title of this blog is "Merry Dreamer"). So don't expect those to disappear. But, to satisfy at least one dear reader, I will do my best to add some informative blog posts about what's going on way out in this land of mountains and sea. Because it's very exciting and different than anything I have yet experienced in my short life. So, if you get tired of my "newsy" posts, feel free to skip them. Hopefully there is something here for everyone to enjoy...even the philosophers among us.

As I type this blog, I am sitting alone in my apartment. The cool morning breeze pours through the sliding glass door that leads out to our little deck. Andy and I have made it a routine to get up super early on Mondays (5:30 for him, and 5:45 for me) for 6:30 Mass at our parish.

There is something grand about getting up so early. While I am by no means a morning person, I enjoy rising before most, when the air has that scrubbed, squeaky-clean feeling and even the birds are still shaking the dew from their feathers and the sleep from their eyes. And when you get up this early, you sometimes see the most glorious sunrises. Today was one of those days. As we raced towards our cars (we drive separately, so Andy can go to work afterwards), I saw it--peachy-pink and purple streaks across the sky and the dusky blue of "our" mountain. "Look!" I cried, pointing to the morning majesty. Andy and I both grinned, and then were off to Mass.

I am always reminded of my Steubenville days when we go to the early Mass. Rolling out of bed, throwing on clothes, and stumbling across campus to get to the 6:25 Mass with Katherine or household sisters. Although it was hard to get up that early, I always felt like I had a jump start on the rest of the day...even if I went back to sleep afterwards. There is something so simple, so right about starting one's day early, and with prayer. I suppose that is what life is like in the convent or monastery. Simple. Cyclical. Ordered. Beautiful.

I do feel like I am getting into the rhythm of life here in the Northwest. While many things still take me by surprise (like the salty smell of the sea breeze at the Mariners baseball game), I am growing quite fond of my surroundings. Please continue to join me as I navigate through this mysterious land. And keep on dreaming!