In case of 400 YEARS

I really love mornings at my apartment. 

I usually wake up around 8:30.  Not because I have to, mind you, but because I’ve been going to bed so early these days, I simply can’t sleep past 8:30 anymore.  And by 8:30, Beth and Jes are already gone.  So it’s not like there’s a line for the shower.

But Rachel is usually up.  On my favorite mornings, Rachel is already up and sitting at the kitchen table.  She’s reading.  A steaming mug of coffee sits in front of her.  I notice that there’s another inch or so of coffee in the pot. 

“Is that for me?”  I ask.

“Sure,” she replies.

I pour the coffee for myself and pad out into the living room (aka My Office).  Why do I pad, you ask?  It’s because I’m wearing my slippers.  Of course.  I’m also still in my pajamas.  Why?  Because I can be.  Work doesn’t start until the afternoon.

I take a minute to appreciate our beautiful view…

…and then plop down onto the couch (aka My Desk).  I set the coffee on the coffee table (FINALLY using that piece of furniture to its exact purpose!), open my laptop, and get to the day.  The day is inside the laptop.  The day is job hunting, paying bills, e-mailing people, getting e-mails back, watching LOST, and writing writing writing.  And if it’s a really good morning, there’s already something in my inbox from Michael waiting for me.

You know, I can bitch and complain about money all I want.  I can fret over not making my bills, bemoan the few hours I get at the after school place, and beat my brains out hunting for a job.

But there’s a simple joy in the mornings now.  A joy of stillness, of not rushing, of being able to open my eyes up slowly to every new day.  

Last night at church we talked about this.  About how, just before the New Testament and the birth of Christ, there were 400 years of NOTHINGNESS for the Israelites.  400 years of waiting.  400 years of the profound, empty silence of God.  That’s so long to wait for even the simplest word from the Almighty.  How many generations lived and died in that silence?

So, yes.  I really love mornings at my apartment. 

But here's hoping that there's a point to all this waiting.  Here's hoping that into the silence of my life here in California...God will finally speak.  

In case of TEN NEW COMMANDMENTS

Self-Imposed Rules for the Unemployed

1.                  Go to bed at a decent hour and get up every day before ten.  There’s just no reason not to.

2.                  Regular mealtimes.  Three squares a day.  You owe it to your mom.

3.                  As much TV as you want.  It passes the time, it’s free, and it’s a great study of character and story structure.  (How's that for spin?)

4.                  No more than two cups of coffee per day even if you’re brewing it at home.  If you have to buy, only one cup.  Pay for it with spare change if you can.

5.                  Walk somewhere at some point.  A morning constitutional with Rachel is a good idea.

6.                  Wear clothes.  For the sake of the neighborhood children if for no one else.  

7.                  Take a trip during the afternoon.  It’s a fun game!  If you leave before anybody gets home from work, you win! 

8.                  Get drunk as infrequently as possible.

9.                  No false pretensions of dignity.  You haven’t had any “promising interviews” and you’re not “taking a break.”  You’re just unemployed.  It’s okay.  And as long as you’re young and you shower regularly, it's kind of romantic.

10.      WRITE EVERY DAY.  You don't have to work on the same thing all the time and you don't have to keep what you write.  But you do have to write.