Tomorrow-Morning-Then

I can remember it being too early in the morning. I can remember coming from the cold bitter outside to the warm inside. Cozy. That's a good word for it. Comfortable couches, people sitting on floors- a coffee table in the middle like the focal point of something. I can remember a french press she brought because they didn't drink coffee and baked things. He spoke, read something or just said what was on his mind. She replied with her own words and hands that moved back and forth in some motion like she was molding the words in mid-air. And then they would respond thoughtfully. Everyone had beautiful, good things to say. She came late sometimes, always insisting on sitting in the most uncomfortable spot because she always did things like that. I didn’t speak much- partly because it was early and mostly because I just liked to listen, to watch. Body language, tones, discussions about theology, social justice, the church, war and poverty, consumerism, denominations, community… words swirling around, moving from brain to heart. From mouths to ears to hungry spirits.

I felt the possibilities. There were always possibilities.

And when I remember I think I must have taken it for granted. Because the weight of it sometimes makes my heart so heavy with wanting it to be tomorrow-morning-then and not tomorrow-morning-now.