We talk about the weather

God had favor on us southern folk this morning with 59 degrees at 7am and no humidity. The icing on the cake; a cool breeze. With nothing but hot steamy days ahead and behind us; it felt like air-dropped food rations for a starving country.

An early morning walk in this kind of weather is heavenly. I leapt into action--Gwen Stefani on my hip and breakfast waiting for the little people. A half cup of coffee in my system and I couldn't wait to be alone with the weather.

About mid-way through the hood, I realized I wasn't alone. There is another early morning lover who would certainly be celebrating this divine air; Dad. It made me smile to wonder what he would be doing at that moment. I know he would have already prayed for me, Billy, the kids, Reidun, her future husband, and the future spouses of my kids over a bowl of Captain Black. Did he read from the Old or New Testament this morning? I'm not sure why he reads his ratty old Bible every morning, I know he has the whole thing memorized.

I imagined that he would let mom sleep in because she worked late...but woke her with a fresh cup of coffee much like I wake my night owl each morning. I bet he called her princess and said something sweet.

I know he is anxious(an entirely strange feeling for him). Waiting for his skin biopsy has thrown him a bit. He doesn't lack trust, but wonders what is ahead. His end, or beginning, doesn't scare him...but he's never been great at being sick. He visits parishioners in hospitals, but I don't think he would consider staying in one.

I got home and couldn't wait to call.

"Good morning, First-Born Daughter!" he proclaims! "54 degrees and I had a flannel shirt on for the first hour of the day!" were the first words out of his mouth.

I knew how he was feeling. Perhaps even more celebratory than me. If there is anyone more dramatic than myself, it is my father. He could make a living sucking the marrow out of life.

I told him the cool air made me feel hopeful. Hopeful for fall, a beloved season; but not ready to say good-bye to the glorious long days of summer. Strange, I said to be looking so forward to something ahead, but wanting to hold on and enjoy where I am now.

"Just like the kingdom of Heaven!" he sighed with delight. Not preachy, just Dad. Not pastor John; just a fellow morning person breathing deep. I couldn't see him, but I could see him pulling his pipe away from his face and his white beard following the creases of his smile.

Man, I love that guy. I am not sure I will ever tell him I have a blog. I wouldn't want to put a kink in his morning routine.