Monday, November 27, 2017

It was a morning like other mornings and yet perfect among mornings.

~ John Steinbeck, The Pearl

Monday. Begin again.

Peace this morning after a restful night’s sleep. Thank you.

Some days you’re the window; some days you’re the big. Some days you feel like the bug’s guts when you come to the end of it and you fall into bed spent with your mind still whirling.

You choose: continue to mull it around and around or release it? Sometimes you choose the right way and a  peace falls upon you, heavy and comforting, and you sleep. Late even.

Morning comes and you’ve slept all night; you wake rested. You don’t know what the day will bring but you’re still wrapped in peace as you breathe a prayer of gratitude for the gift of calm that transcends the circumstances. A peace that passes understanding.. That’s more than enough.

And it’s Monday, the first day of a new and unblemished week. Grace reminds you of the gift of beginning again.

And so you rise.



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.
  1. Some days you are the elevator, some days you get the shaft. 🙂 Last evening I was thinking, “dang, Monday again tomorrow.” And then I thought perhaps I should thank God I (hopefully) will wake up tomorrow and have a job, a roof over head, a car that goes “vroom” when I turn the key, people that love me. I still hate Mondays.

    1. Funny, Karen. ? Yup, there’s even something to be thankful for on even Mondays!

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