Darn wife. It’s Monday morning, and maybe we haven’t slept quite as well as we wish, or maybe the weather is a little cloudy (surprising for a Colorado morning) or just maybe the psychic field is a little “under”…whatever.towel-on-the-bathroom-floor-for-web And she says, apropos of nothing, as we are showered and getting dressed for the day/week/rest of our our lives:

“Get up, just go to work, again? That can’t be it…”

And the “it” in her sentence is understated in delivery, but comes across as somehow italicized, CAPITALIZED, bold, and as of yet beyond definition. Impossible to live without too. Like she and I have forgotten something. Like something major has gone accidentally unexplained that would justify our behavior,  our feelings, make more sense out of This Life. Something that we’d all need to explore and grasp before being able to continue this March with integrity.

“…that can’t be it…”

I ignored her, sitting on the edge of the bed putting my shoes on, because what else can you do? I thought it the most polite thing to do. I changed the topic. I made light of the most important Question beneath all questions.

Yes, I am a Pastor/Writer/Student of Life.  Yes, I am studying Albert Camus for my annual Fall Reading Group. I have a daughter working on a PhD in philosophy. This is familiar existential territory…even vocation, but aren’t there some things you just don’t go into first thing Monday morning?

She was beautiful. I was humbled and scared. A confession.



We all feel this on occasion, maybe even more often. And if it is more often than that for you I am truly sorry. You may need to _________.

Then I stumbled across this brief video. It really helps.

Have a Blessed Monday


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