taking back sunday

it usually happens when i'm on my side in bed, one hand propped under the cotton pillowcase and the other hanging loosely above my head. when everything in the house is silent save for the sweet puffs of breath pablo and robert let slip out as they dream.

when the day is done, and the headaches and stresses, little annoyances and big worries all go back into their rabbit holes for a few hours. that's when i pray the longest, and the hardest.

i love the idea of prayer as a continual conversation. of never really saying amen. i whisper little thank yous when my lane is clear on the highway. when a stormy day turns sunny. when i'm rocking on the porch swing with a big bowl of salad and a sweet tea. i whisper little please Gods before a presentation, a work engagement or a dreaded conversation.

but the true, guttural voice that rises from me to reach out to the heavens only truly comes out at night. and i've thought about how to change that. how to make it the first thing, not the last thing i do. i don't want the most integral, important part of my life to be an afterthought. something i attend to after my everyday duties are accomplished and i'm just about sacked out.

the other day, i realized an important element behind why i think this way: i consider sunday the last day of the week.

i've always been confused by calendars, because they typically start the week with sunday, and end with saturday. i've gone against this trend all my life. monday, the dreadful beast that it is, is always the first day of my week. my new chance to start fresh. to write in my planner more and clean my desk. to plan meals and spend more time with pablo.

but it needs to be sunday. it has to be sunday. if i keep sunday as the last day of my week, i continue the trend of pushing my rest and religion to the very back burner. oh sure, you can have church, and a day of thanksgiving and reflection. only after your monday through saturday things get done.

so tomorrow is the last day of my week, as far as i'm concerned. and sunday will start it anew. my end is now my beginning, as it should have been.

mama once told me, there's no sweeter way to fall asleep than in prayer, deep in the arms of Jesus.

but there's no sweeter way to wake up either, i'm certain.