I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer. ~Martin Luther
News on the radio startles me awake. Dennis forgot to shut off the alarm.
I don’t want to get up. My elbow hurts, and my back aches. I know that Friday’s supper dishes line the counter–along with every cup, glass, bowl, and spoon used since then. The kitchen floor is sticky, and the bathroom floor littered with leaf crumbs brushed from Gracee’s hair Saturday. There’s still water in the tub, which is lined with a folded beach towel, from Lillee’s Sunday morning bath.
I relive yesterday’s church family fun day at a cider mill about an hour from home.
Engrossed in The Preacher’s Bride (and certain I can never write as well as Jody), I realize we are stopped on the side of the road. A long train of cars waits to enter the driveway. I can already feel the press of people milling about the mill, and I go into grumble and whine mode.
Fact is, once we find our group and get our armbands, we never see any of them again. At one point, I wander off to the Pie Barn alone, but there is no breathing space there, and certainly no tables or places to sit with a slice of pie. I do, however, enjoy pushing Lillee’s stroller through the corn maze and watching Gracee choose pumpkins.
Anyway, Dennis comes upstairs, shuts off the radio, and begins to move about the room. He’s leaving for Charlotte, N.C. this morning, and I suspect he looks forward to the simplicity of an uncluttered hotel room.
I shift positions to put more pressure on my scapula, and he realizes I’m awake. He peppers me with instructions.
The water softener is empty. You’ll need to unplug it or get more salt to hold over under Culligan delivers.
We need cat food and kitty litter.
You need to get a furnace filter. The dimensions are on a card on the dresser.
My neck starts to hurt. I’ll need to handle whatever happens over the next few days alone, including the real possibility of having to put our kitty down and bury her.
Dennis kisses me goodbye, and I lie longer in the darkness.
I have three choices.
- I can lie here all day.
- I can plow into the chores.
- I can go sit outside.
I choose door number three.
The morning is as dull as my spirit. The deer glance at me as they pick their way across the field. The other morning they pranced and danced and jumped on each other. This morning they seem as sluggish as I feel.
As I sink into my chair, I realize the air is alive with the sound of music. Is it my imagination, or do the birds sing louder because of the clouds? Their warbles and tweets surround me and even overpower the highway din.
I breathe deep of gray and gold and feel the tension start to drop away as leaves fall one by one.
I think it’s going to be a two-cup morning.
I will sing to the Lord because He has dealt bountifully with me.
Psalm 13:6 (NASB)
It’s On, In, and Around Mondays day at Seedlings in Stone.
P.S. The sun’s out, and the sky is blue again.
You chose well.
Thank you, Sandra, for the lovely pictures and thoughts. I’m glad you were able to go outside, and to choose God=nearness, and reflect with joy. We can get so overwhelmed by the pressures of daily life. We can’t do all the things we want to, or have the time go the way we really wish it would. But oh, may we always choose to walk with God, in whatever way we can at each moment!
nance nAncY nanc heyyou davisbaby says
i agree with kathleen…good choice.
L.L. Barkat says
So glad you went outside. It heals, doesn’t it…
S. Etole says
a place to breath … it nourishes the soul
Oh, you know what? I sort of had the same kind of sitting-outside-and-noticing-things-weren’t-quite-so-horrible-after-all sort of morning a couple of days ago. But some days are harder than others. Praying for a renewed spirit.
Lyla Lindquist says
Getting ready to brew myself a second cuppa Joe over here.
Great pics. Your description makes me think of every dinner party we’ve ever had and gone go bed right after, knowing that there’s a sink and counter full of dishes.
Haha…for me, I think every morning might be a two-cup morning.
I was feeling the same heaviness this morning as I woke up realizing I was back home with more chores than I wish to deal with, church issues that I had beedn happier leaving behind, and more.
It is always His day, and I too chose to rejoice.
Lorna G. Poston says
When do the results come back on Miss Scruffy? Is she any better today?
Jody Hedlund says
Beautiful post, Sandra! You are a very gifted writer! I can see that very clearly! Just wondering if you went to Uncle John’s Cider Mill? The pictures are gorgeous! And I’m glad The Preacher’s Bride kept you in good company during the ride there! 🙂
Yes, living this lull with you, Sandra. And your depiction of it is so real, aches and pains and sluggishness and renewal and all.
Cassandra Frear says
I like your two cup morning. May I join you? Tomorrow about 7:30, just as the sun is rising. It will be perfect. The birds are on the move and the sky is full of wings.
Krista @ Life in Texas says
I LOVE door #3. I never feel like I can choose it, because door #2 is so… everywhere-all-the-time-consuming.
But lately I’ve been convicted that #3 will lead to a lightened load when I get to #2. And occasionally, I might even get to justify #1.
I can’t get over that opening quote. Why can’t that be my default response?
And, of course, I love going outside with you once again, Sandra. You’re a beautiful person, you know it?
I love two cup mornings. They remind me nothing is as important as spending contemplative time soaking up the beauty all around me.
Kathleen@so much to say, so little time says
I took time to sit out on the deck and read the Bible and sit quietly yesterday. First time in a long time. It was lovely. I must do this daily.