Monday in the Fourth Week of Lent

I feel sluggish as I pull on my sweats to drive my daughters to early morning band practice. I have been burning the candle at both ends for days, and find myself stretched thin.


I start the car and the music starts with it—a slow ballad.  “Is that my playlist?” my daughter asks, and I nod my assent. “I’m glad you like it.”


I like it very much. It was her birthday present to me, her selection of her music that she thought I would enjoy. Her music has accompanied me as I have traveled, and not just her song list. Her voice. Her quirky choices. Her hopes and inspirations. Her exuberance for life. Her willingness to share herself with me. Her increasing independence.


As we crest a rise, the pink-orange bands of the sunrise greet us, and we all take note of the beauty. God’s gift given once again.


I drop my daughters at the school wishing them a good day. As I head home I put that one song on repeat, drinking again from the love that sustains my life.

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