Monday in May

And so, Monday.

The morning, fresh and full of hope, as yet unmarried by noise, and busy, and those wild things that come to stir things up.

Now there is peace and promise, and the wonder that comes with quiet anticipation. We ask, in the quiet place of unknowing, questions that unnerve us. We pray, and ask for wisdom.

We shrug our shoulders into our doing-life costume and begin our work. The unfolding of another week begins.

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I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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