This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed;
…and since I am married, and only one small slice of that mattress is ever allotted me (as our nuptial contract makes perfectly plain)
…it is obvious that something has moved in my brain rather than my entire body.
It might be because my little one snuck into my bed before I could,
…mistaking my pillow for his potty.
It might be because my previous days’ work had to be redone
…as I blundered on something I can normally and effortlessly do in a breath.
And it is possible,
…although I loathe to admit it, that like all moments in my life,
…I have chosen to respond to what is handed to me with less than God expects.
AS I WRITE THIS
…staring at a slowly warming sky, listening to the ever increasing noise of a world coming to itself, I have yet again another choice to make.
I will either set my hand to the plow in the field that my Maker has given me,
…all the while grumbling about the dryness of the soil,
…or I will do my part,
…praying in expectation for the help and rain that our Lord will certainly provide.
You and I both know that our day does not have to be wasted.
Our mission does not have to be forfeit.
So our days began poorly; now let’s choose.
Hand to the plow.
For God; for those we love.
I am praying for you. in Christ, patrick