Mondays are often difficult for me. Sunday is the one day a week I go outside of the Anchorage. On Monday mornings, I cook (often for the week) and prepare for the rest of the week. But it is the day I struggle most to find some peace.
Why? The conversations of “yesterday” are at the front of my mind. It makes time to move them to my heart where they become my prayer. I try to pray for all people I encounter, especially those who are part of my community of faith. But my human side often takes over at the start of the week and I replay conversations (and my depression tries to find hidden motives and intents).
So today I celebrate the Nativity of St John the Baptist. Witness to Jesus and messenger. Not always popular, not always sociable. The first “Jesus” solitary. I wonder if he ever struggled with Mondays?
this solitary life 