Monday Mornings

This morning started out the way so many Mondays do.

Hit the snooze button at 7 am. Hit it again at 7:15. Finally roll out of bed at 7:25, with a bleary look at the time. Darn it. Only 10 minutes til I have to leave.

Run to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea - the only thing to keep me awake through the morning hour headed my way. Leave it sitting on the counter to cool while I change into jeans and pull on a hoodie over my t-shirt. No time for make-up. Jesus won't care anyway.

Dash back to the kitchen for my rushed breakfast, a slice of homemade cornbread covered with apple butter. I gulp down the tea and rinse my mug. Stuff my keys, cell phone, Magnificat and Rosary into a bag, and throw in Story of a Soul too, just for good measure.

7:40 and I'm out the door, 5 minutes late. That's ok because it means I'll have to power-walk, which I kind of enjoy. The first few moments out the door are the hardest, when the cold is new and uncomfortable. A few minutes of walking and I feel better. Time to start singing, which I start doing to make myself feel better about being up so early. I hum quietly to myself when people pass me on the sidewalk, but when I'm alone, I let forth a loud and merry tune unabashed. It works; before long I'm smiling and enjoying the walk.

Straight up Quincy Street, past the high school and over the highway. Left on 17th. I say good morning to my favorite sight of the walk, a cute little picket fence with trees and flowers spilling over it in wild abandon. It's so quaint and the little gate is always open. I daydream about walking in some time to what must surely be a magical wonderland garden.

Nearing the church, I'm delighted to see I'm 2 minutes early, thanks to my power walking. That means I have time to stop and give some love to the pink roses by the sidewalk. They smell divine.

I go in the back door and sign my name on the Adoration sheet. "Time in: 8 am." I'm so proud that I can write this honestly this week. Last week it was definitely 8:05... whoops.

Then the best hour of my week - sitting face to face with the love of my life. Is that cheesy? That's too bad, because it's true. We have a lot to catch up on and I end up not using the Rosary or opening Story of a Soul, although I do make copious use of my Magnificat.

I'm the only adorer signed up for the 8-9 am shift but I'm actually only alone in the chapel for a few minutes. Most of the time, older parishioners are coming in and out, pausing here to pray for a while. It's a nice convivial feeling, having them there. Happily I only get drowsy once, unlike my first time here, when I fell asleep for several minutes. I'm so glad I drank that tea this morning.

When my phone tells me it's 9 am, I leave, pausing on my way out to say good day to the roses again. Back down Quincy. More singing and happy humming. Getting up early is actually kind of fun, I reflect. At home, I take a quick shower and pack myself a lunch. Then take the train to work.

And that is my Monday morning.