“The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup.” This iconic jingle has been percolating in our brains for nearly forty years, and now will come to mind at least three times today (you’re welcome). Despite their best efforts, the many years of advertising have not succeeded in drawing me into the fold, as I still haven’t learned to appreciate the taste of coffee.
If I don’t welcome the morning with a steaming cup of joe, what comes with the new day? I sometimes wake up with a hymn on my lips, such as the majestic tune Laudes Domini, “When morning gilds the skies, my heart awakening cries, ‘May Jesus Christ be praised.’” While I wish I could claim such religious fervor every day, I am just as likely to come to consciousness to “M-I-C-K-E-Y, M-O-U-S-E,” the theme song for the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse our grandson, the charming Henry Kyle, loves to watch.
My days of waking up to the wails of a newborn at 3 a.m. are long gone, but when the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday spend the night, Lizzie likes to sneak into our bedroom early in the morning and stare at me as I sleep. I don’t mind if it’s at a reasonable hour, but a 5:30 a.m. visit can be downright freaky, especially if she reaches out and touches my arm or face. Yet mercifully, her early morning wake-up call results in the cuddle of a sleepy five-year-old. It’s all good.
As I wrote these words, I was determined to avoid the topics of politics and pandemics, and I kept my promise through three paragraphs, but I can’t help myself. All I’ll say about politics is this: when we wake up on Wednesday, November 4, one thing is certain: there won’t be any political ads on television. We may not know for sure who the president will be in 2021, but we will be extremely grateful to see more of Flo from Progressive.
As for the pandemic, concerns over COVID-19 are not as easily banished as political ads. In our first moments of waking, it’s possible to slip back into “before,” as often happens following the death of someone we love. We awaken to the buzz of the alarm or the early rays of sun sneaking past the curtains, unaware for a moment that our world has been changed forever. For some, the worldwide pandemic is merely an annoying inconvenience, while others wrestle with mounting debt, frustrations with on-line learning, and crippling anxiety. The invisibility of the virus and its tenacious ability to attack when least expected is unnerving. Even more so, many of our brothers and sisters here in Ohio and across the world face a new wave of mourning for loved ones who have succumbed to the virus, often dying alone. Mercy.
In autumn 2020, morning can bring a sense of dread, a feeling of fragility. As poet Mary Oliver understood, “It is a serious thing - just to be alive – on this fresh morning – in this broken world.” J.R.R. Tolkien had a similar thought: “You can only come to the morning through the shadows.”
Yet we still come to the newness of morning with a cup of fresh-brewed coffee or a song to greet the day. Our morning may entail a rush to the bus stop, a trip to the computer on the dining room table; or even a turning from side to side as we fight against the beckoning day. Life is difficult. We are so weary. But we need not give in to despair.
Dr. Seuss encourages us: “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.” Poet Thomas Chisholm drew upon the book of Lamentations when he wrote: “Morning by morning new mercies I see.” As an alternative to despair, the compassionate forbearance that defines mercy can be claimed as a watchword, accepted as a gift of grace, and extended toward others. Is it possible that steering in the direction of new mercy could end up being the best part of waking up?
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