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.