basketball on wet pavement interrupts my thinking. The sheer number of things to do today derails me like a train with too many cars to pull.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.
Cold, whole wheat pancake smeared with Nutella to restart my thinking, to renew the second, no third, maybe even third and a half wind.
Interruptions not really, just the rhythm of living this life among boys with questions, yearning to be young men. Amongst phone calls ignored, praise the Lord for voicemail. Amongst personal disciplines of self when the tweet sounds off.
Thinking much on how life drains but the Lord renews. Experiencing such vignettes in these moments.
Life named Monday.