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Sunday Morning

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Always so quiet and serene. There’s something special and sanctified in the air. Is this human behavior formed through our society, or was it placed in our souls from when God rested on the seventh day?

Whatever the reason, my thoughts wonder to others and what or how they may be feeling this peaceful morning. Are they resting, too? If so, from what? My thoughts form visions of those with their “firsts” and their “lasts” to reflect upon. There was the:

  • First Saturday of being twenty-one and out until dawn!
  • First Saturday of being divorced and alone …


  • Last Saturday before they start a new job, school, commitment.
  • Last before their wedding day on Sunday.

Or those who cried for joy when the morning dawned because …

  • They made it through the night at the bedside of a loved one who wasn’t expected to survive
  • They woke up married!
  • They felt the joy of their newborn beside them, home for the first day of a brand new life.

And for those who cried last night from grief:

  • The new day dawned with the birds singing and life beginning anew, showing them they can go on without their love one.
  • They woke up after a terrible argument (maybe from too much drinking?) and their lover slipped away, leaving only a note on the pillow for this morning.

So many “firsts” and so many “lasts.” Maybe if these occurred on another morning, one with less quiet and time to ponder—they might have been rushed by with less thought or feeling.

Makes me wonder if the really important firsts and lasts are guided by God’s hand, into our lifes when we have a moment to consider them—a moment, like Sunday morning.


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