Gentle Readers: If you don't know me very well, what you need to know to understand this entry is that I am not so much "a morning person." If you know me at all, you know that my first name, "Dawn," is nothing more than a cruel joke. But maybe not for long!
One of my jobs at Pendle Hill is to take a few shifts running "the Bubble," which is basically the front desk of the kitchen/hospitality area. Two days a week, I work the morning shift, which requires that I show up one-hour before breakfast (6:30 a.m. on weekdays, 7 a.m. on weekends).
This morning was my orientation shift, and I got there early -- I was the first one in the kitchen (gooooo me!). Part of being "the Bubble" (I'm not sure if I am the Bubble, or if I'm working the Bubble) is helping to setup for breakfast. And ringing the morning bell.
So at 7:30 a.m., I walked into the food-storage closet and pulled down the wooden handle that attaches to a thick rope, that attaches to the bell.
I rang the bell about a dozen times; the ringing can be heard across campus. The bell signals that it's time to wake up, at least if you want to eat breakfast. The bell also rings 10 minutes before mealtimes, and I think, before worship.
Let me say that again. I was the one who rang the Pendle Hill wake-up bell.
Though I was in the midst of running around, brewing coffee and washing fruit, I did take a moment to breathe in this amazing fact: not only have I shown up every morning this week for breakfast and morning meeting, not only have I risen to the bell, but I am the bell.
p.s. People who are "keeping silence" can be really cranky when they want their caffiene. Like, I saw you gesture the first time...I can't make it brew any faster...