When Monday greets with puffy eyes.

Yes, yes.

I’ve got the puffy eyes, too. Thick with exhaustion, heavy with weariness. You’re tired. I know. And so am I, friend. So am I.

coffee-cup-mug-cafe

And I want to reach for the sunglasses and cover up the fatigue. I want to reach for the coffee, make the day go down soft and sweet.

And you and I both know we’ve yet to meet a Monday so forgiving. Monday—she’s always been known for her boisterous arrivals. Her loud clanging and clashing cymbals. Almost as if to say, “I’m here, I’m here.” Almost as if to scream, “Wake up, wake up!”

You, friend.

Today, as you wake to the riot of another one of Monday’s parading entrances, may you find peace, find rest, find quiet in the stillness. Gather your breath, the one you’ll be needing for the day.

We’ll worry about Tuesday when she gets here. But as for Monday: let’s meet her, wide-eyed and ready.

Whatever you do today, whatever your happen upon, Know that there is grace enough to get you through. From moment to moment, minute to minute.

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