Monday has always been something of a new beginning for me. I am drawn to the blankness of it, the untraveled road, the promise of something joyous and hopeful. It is the unread book. It is the fresh snowfall. It is a clean page in a notebook.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about magic, the type of magic that involves a sensation of anticipation. It is a tingle in the air. I can almost see pixies sprinkling their fairy dust throughout the sky. Mondays are magic.
Life can be draining and exhausting, but I try not to bog myself down with constant worry. Corrie ten Boom once said, “Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its trouble. It empties today of its strength.” So what Monday gives me is hope without the worry. I look at this day with an affirmation of flight. The air is full of fluffy clouds and colorful kites, even it is only in my imagination.
Mondays offer a sense of hope in all things difficult and trying. On Mondays I see rainbows after a storm. I spy faith in the unknown. Mondays are filled with grace.
“I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.” – J.B. Priestly