A letter

Erasing weekends. Dancing out of bed.

In New York Summer on June 16, 2015 at 11:24 am

Morning, friend.  Birds are chirping and summer’s early cool is creeping in through cracked windows all around me. I’m hunching that today is going to be a good one. Yesterday’s humidity hung in the air like wet laundry the entire day. But, just before bed, we heard the rain bringing with it a twenty degree temperature drop—thus, this glorious morning cool—my favorite. Hope you’re getting some of the glory too. Wish you could join me on the sunshine couch and we could sip coffee for hours and laugh. This will have to do for now.

David and I have been on a journey of erasing the weekend. Don’t worry, I’ll explain, and before I go on, let me just reiterate, it is a journey.  We’ve been reading and listening and talking, then reading and listening and talking some more—late into the nights. Much of our conversation has been discussing the tragic practice of “living for the weekend.” We’ve been gifted a beautiful life, yet we spend much of it surviving to get to the better day. Of seven days do we only really live on two? Do we have that much unhappiness to escape? Do we have that much disdain for life that we can only endure til the clock strikes five on Friday? Most humans live this way, or at least have lived this way at times, myself included. But, I for one, won’t for long.

Not only is it tragic for me, but for the Big Guy upstairs. I’m sure His thoughts for me are far higher. I’m sure His heartbeat for me much stronger and deeper. Yet, we settle for this disgusting bill-of-goods our our world sells, and we’re blind to it. I was reading in Romans this morning and this time my heart read familiar words differently:

“So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you; Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering.”

It goes on in much more detail. You should read it in new light. How beautiful. How refreshingly convicting. How liberating and freeing. This practice of placing of my whole life before God—the laundry, the long work days, the date nights, the grocery shopping, the early mornings, the late nights, the milestones, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  I think my offering has been a few days short for quite a while.

My kids seem to have this down pat.  They wake with the sun, full of smiles and kisses.  Sol immediately dresses, wants breakfast, and is eagerly happy to face his day. Leon wakes with more words that one can possibly imagine, following David around telling him all his dreams and schemes.  They don’t shy away from Monday like I do, or I should say, have been in the habit of doing.  It’s not that they don’t look forward to family movie night—they do. We all should. It’s not that they aren’t excited about Slurpee park dates—they most certainly are. But while they love all these things, they also wake with wonder, dancing out of bed, ready to LIVE another day given whatever it may bring. And they don’t worry about it beforehand. Maybe it’s why He tells us we have to be like children to enter His kingdom. I’m starting a “Thank God it’s Monday” club. (or Tuesday, Wednesday etc.) You should join.

I’ll write more soon, but groceries beckon!

All my love,


  1. Great post, BEP! Jim’s sermon on Easter this year was on this topic; not living for the weekend, yearly vacation or retirement! Live in the now – look for the opportunity! THIS is the day… Thanks for the reminder.

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