Try Again

The baby, hungry and in search of warmth, cries. The toddler, energetic before nap time, refuses a diaper change. The doorbell rings and sleeping dogs fill the house with barking. And un-showered, un-prayed me is so tightly wound I’m shaking.

It did not bode well when I slept though my alarm, fell asleep nursing, and walked into my day, chaotic and without so much as a completed prayer.

It’s Monday and it feels like it.

But I stop later to shower and catch my breath; the hum of the hairdryer puts Izaak to sleep. I vacuum up dog hair while Abigail sleeps. It’s visible progress, therapeutic. A small step in the right direction. When I can inhale more deeply, less shakily, I stop to pray and start Monday all over again.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness (Lamentations 3:22-23).

His great loves helps me to stop, take a step back, and see my Monday from his vantage point. I am not consumed, though peace and quiet and good reason give way. His compassions never fail; I am cared for, though I do not deserve the mercy of every baby, toddler, and dog napping simultaneously.

In his faithfulness, he sustains and renews undeserving me, even at midday.

Because who says morning must begin with the short-lived morning light? Who says you can’t try again later and hope for the best, even on a Monday?





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