I know my weakness know my voice, but I believe in grace and choice

I think I have an unhealthy love for Saturday mornings. It's not the laziness that I love by any means, but the stillness. The calm moments between the walk from the brewing coffee pot to the toaster. No rush, no urgency, just toast. The inkling of light seeping through the dusty blinds. The possibility of farmer's market outings, coffee shop musings, lunch with a friend. Nothing is certain, there is no pressure to do anything but simply be.

I could endlessly type about the business of my weeks. The relentless work that goes into each weekday morning, the commitments made, the eyedrops I pour into my eyes to hide the hours of sleep I've missed, but I won't. For this moment, I'd rather relish in the glorious peace of God that transcends all understanding. That these moments are only due to His grace. These still mornings are attributed to His love for me.

This Saturday is made for the rootsy groans of Marcus Mumford and his sons that will serenade me into the afternoon. Babel. Can't get enough.