Thinking, That's All: Sunday Morning {Solo}

Yesterday, I posted a collaborative piece from the prompt Sunday Morning by Ani DiFranco where I shared my captures and my partner's words.

Below are the words I penned for the prompt and captures.

Sunday Morning {Solo}

Head sunken into pillows, hips into the cushion of a wool-topped mattress, I used to sleep long and late into the morning, gracious husband downstairs with two little boys scrambling eggs and scrambling to find church clothes, dress two boys.

Inevitably, there was always rushing, some tears, frustration billowing freshly like just-brewed coffee. Sunday mornings groaned for restoration.

So my sleep has since been traded for early-rising, frustration for the fruit of patience and hot tempers for hot breakfasts together beneath summer sun. 

And I was reminded that before redemption could restore and penetrate my heart while sitting beneath the steeple that it had to begin in the heart of my Sunday mornings first.