Some Monday mornings are harder than others. Yesterday as I busted out of the house at 8:32 am to get the kids to school on time, I didn’t feel rested and refreshed, ready to take on the week, filled with vim and clarity of purpose. I wondered where I would get the energy for the week ahead.
I somehow made through the day, not particularly gracefully, but with some semblance of presence. I attribute this to the Holy Spirit, who, according to Paul, “does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.”
When I drove by this house yesterday, I laughed. I didn’t laugh at it, but with it. I was thankful for it. The porch is propped up, awaiting repairs, doing its job but with outside aid. I know how that is. Props for the porch, and props for the Spirit, too.