sunday morning

Sunday mornings are quiet now. Family waking when they will, no alarms to rush readiness for Mass, no hustling to get tasks done before the events of the day begin to unfold. No hastening at all. Instead, coffee brews, bread toasts, and we breathe. Sunday finally feels like Sabbath.

Here we are, eons away from where we imagined life to be on a midsummer Sunday, and yet still, as God proclaimed on the 7th day, it is good.

Never will I wish for the horrific loss of life this pandemic brought, but, as in everything, if we look to God, we will find a way through. Contrary to the popular saying, God doesn’t only give us what we can handle. Who would believe they could handle war or slavery or oppression or a global pandemic. God does give us what we need to make it through to the other side, though.

We need God because God brings hope. Scripture is filled with stories of hope and love and hospitality, all rising out of the deepest lows that life brings. They remind us that, in our depths, God nudges us towards those who bring light and reminds us that we bring light to others. God provides, we need only open our hands, ready to receive.

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