Sunday Morning Coffee

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Sunday morning…the morning sky is like peaches dipped in vanilla frosting. The smoke from fireplaces and furnaces floats like a lazy river over roof tops in my neighborhood. The old wood floor vibrates as the furnace purrs in the cellar, like the content cat warming my lap.

My coffee is cold…and black. Yesterday’s brew that sat in the pot overnight. I will heat it about 3 times and set it down, forgetting to drink it while it’s hot. I want to savor the peace of this morning.

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My Bible lays open on my lap, I close my eyes and let the words sink into my soul. I love the Psalms, and find myself going there frequently.

Now, the house is waking up. Water runs in the bathroom upstairs. The dog yawns noisily, looking at me with hope that I will get up and get him a treat.

It’s time to get ready for Church.

It’s time to heat up my coffee again (yes, I forgot it).

It’s time to start a new week.

I pray for you, friends. I pray this week will be filled with all you need and unexpected blessings.

peace,

Pamela

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