SUNDAY CONTEMPLATION
It is very quiet here this morning. It is Sunday.
And so the neighborhoods sleep in a little longer or they take a more leisurely time of rolling out of bed, eating breakfast, and getting dressed.
The highway is always busy but a little less crowded this early on Sunday.
In the Elliott household, I rest a bit then do some housekeeping things and husband tending things then rest again. But this is Sunday so too I will attempt church if Ron seems reasonably safe to leave for an hour or so.
In the Elliott household, Ron does little. He finally awoke, ate a bit, took something for pain and then feel asleep again in his easy chair. It is difficult for him to do anything that takes energy - everything is a great effort.
Daily changes are coped with and sadness is noted as these are played out.
But the song is not over until the last note fades so we listen to the song as intently as possible giving it our loving attention.
Snuggling beneath my covers earlier this morning unable to fall back to sleep, I just felt the softness of my bed, the warmth of the sheets, the support of the pillows, noticing my breath being taken in and released and just being present floating in that spot between thought and nothingness. Yet I was aware of being alive and having a reason to be here and that sparked gratitude within even when I have no idea of the complete fullness or implication of my overall role in the scheme of things.
Sunday. A time for contemplation in the quiet and aloneness.
And so the neighborhoods sleep in a little longer or they take a more leisurely time of rolling out of bed, eating breakfast, and getting dressed.
The highway is always busy but a little less crowded this early on Sunday.
In the Elliott household, I rest a bit then do some housekeeping things and husband tending things then rest again. But this is Sunday so too I will attempt church if Ron seems reasonably safe to leave for an hour or so.
In the Elliott household, Ron does little. He finally awoke, ate a bit, took something for pain and then feel asleep again in his easy chair. It is difficult for him to do anything that takes energy - everything is a great effort.
Daily changes are coped with and sadness is noted as these are played out.
But the song is not over until the last note fades so we listen to the song as intently as possible giving it our loving attention.
Snuggling beneath my covers earlier this morning unable to fall back to sleep, I just felt the softness of my bed, the warmth of the sheets, the support of the pillows, noticing my breath being taken in and released and just being present floating in that spot between thought and nothingness. Yet I was aware of being alive and having a reason to be here and that sparked gratitude within even when I have no idea of the complete fullness or implication of my overall role in the scheme of things.
Sunday. A time for contemplation in the quiet and aloneness.
posted by Brendisima | 6:06 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home