thin and it's not even 9:00 a.m. No wonder Mondays get such a bad rap. She comes right after Sunday, a day to recharge, and seems to burn out in the real consequences of dashed hopes.
All the vigor in the world can not be the "try harder" that any day needs. The hours will contain their plodding tasks, their ill-timed frustrations, and their heavy sighs. More than once crawling back into bed will seem the solution.
So I'm laying it out there from the start. I do not want to have to do today's living. But it is here. I do not want to have to be another's strength. But I am still here. I do not want to even own my own messes. But they are all around me.
With one step at a time, the living will happen. With many whispered prayers, the sighs will be stifled. With remembrance that it is what it is, but it will not always be; He does not forsake.
Bring it on, Monday. There is life much bigger than you to be lived even on today.
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