All day long to me, it was Thursday. It made no sense because Tuesday meant meetings and Thursday, always the same.

Wednesday though, in between after my Tuesday starting early and ending late.

Maybe my mind’s compilation and calculations had me thinking such. I’d barely been home at all.

Wednesday evening now and the clouds are boldly gray, all meeting in the middle as if saying hurry, hurry sundown.

Tomorrow is another day.

My mood was knocked off kilter yesterday.

What was expected would be required to change.

Moody, mopey, misaligned, my plan would not come true.

Once again, it’s up to you and you may have said to self, the going well of this or not going well,

Well, that’s gonna be it for me!

You may have decided it’s a pivotal time. I’m tired, I’ve tried.

But, yesterday I went home in between the upended plan and the meeting.

Thirty minutes was all.

Acknowledged the Labrador, allowed him to run, made an iced coffee and went to my room to pray.

Lord, this is the work you’ve given me to do, help me do it well.

I conducted the meeting, the conversations were engaging and new.

Not once felt incapable, I somehow commanded the room.

It was a long day into evening, which is I guess, why Wednesday I decided should be by now Thursday.

Grocery store stop, supper done, dishes done, mess I made in the art/writing/workroom tidied, a load of towels done and tossing and tennis ball retrieving fulfilled.

I ran some, walked some and came back home.

Stopped the music coming through and stood still in our front yard.

The warm wind against my shoulders, circling all around my face. So softly strong there was a sound, sound of whooshing wind and soprano birdsong.

So I stood and closed my eyes to pray and when thoughts did not come not a request or a thank you, Lord, I stood still and I still prayed.

I stood very still to listen.

To pray.