It’s Monday. The last one before we enter the season of Advent and I wake with a fresh intention to walk through this week different than I have in recent weeks.
Some words spoken yesterday, by our pastor in the online church service and by our daughter in good conversation later, nudge me toward a different direction.
I wake early—far too early, even for me—but Murphy deems it the appointed hour and so together we begin the day. We tend to some things, then settle in on the sofa in the den where he goes back to sleep and I enter into the time I hold precious.
Now, hours have passed. Maya has joined us in the den and Gerry is downstairs having his morning reading time. It’s light outside. It’s lighter inside too. Something has broken. I can’t explain it.
The day and week begin and ordinary time winds down. It seems like a good time to begin again.