It's that time once again. Friday is here. Time to sit, breathe, and write. For five minutes and only five minutes. No second-guessing, no worrying, no editing. Writing and writing only.
Some days there are just too many choices to make. Too much to think about, too much to do, and too much vying for my attention. Choices need to be made. What to wear, whether to exercise, what to eat, what to pack for lunch, whether to make a cup of tea and read the paper, what I need to get done for work, who needs a visit, what my thoughts are for the upcoming sermon, on and on and on. Choice after choice confronts me even before I step out of the bed. The day already rushing by me. The worries and the fears and the uncertainty already present.
Yet, there's a moment each morning when I wake up, a holy moment, where all the worries from yesterday and the to-do lists of today fail to settle in. There's just a brief moment where the only choice, the only option, is to give thanks for the joy of being alive. There's a brief moment where the sacred seeps in and just to be awake takes cosmic significance.
For a moment, I am reminded that God chooses me.