The Story of a Monday Morning

We’ve had a glorious morning.


After Y left, the girls and I had hot bowls of steel-cut oatmeal with chopped pears and candied pecans for breakfast. I wanted to introduce them to the cello and its sounds, so we watched a video of Yo-Yo Ma as we ate. Little Jo loves oatmeal, but she stopped eating when we found a video of The Kings Chamber Orchestra playing “In Christ Alone”; I sang the first verse so that she would recognize her lullaby, and she sat absolutely still with her spoon in hand, listening.

Last week I felt like I didn’t get a chance to sit down with the girls until Saturday morning. So after popping a load of laundry in the washer, we read a few books together, including the wonderful Brimsby’s Hats. I’ve never been so charmed by a library find.


Right now both of them are “dressed up” in my autumn cardigans, coloring out-of-season sheets of Easter eggs as Lucy hums a little ditty. Just now she put her purple pencil back in the caddy and finished up with a high warble.

Later, I’ll make a big batch of lentil soup in our dutch oven, and tote it over to friends who are moving out of town this week. We’ll miss them very much, and I’m going to say it with a letter full of memories and thanks written at nap time, and with this last meal.

At the end of this Monday morning, it looks like the post I meant to write for today will be up tomorrow instead. I’m left, instead, with a fitting introduction to this week’s thread: a handful of stories on living with others.

Wishing you a Monday that surprises you with beauty in spite of its reputation,



This post is part of a 31 day series about Loving God as an Introvert

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