Monday Mornings

For years I dreaded Monday morning. In fact, a feeling of dread began to grow in me on Sunday evening. I did not like going to bed Sunday night because I knew when I woke up it would be Monday morning.

There are people who love their jobs. Their work defines them and they are restless and unsatisfied if they are away from their work for too long.

I am not one of those people. I have had a lot of jobs in my life. Some of them I liked, some of them I hated, one I liked a lot (it was the only one where I actually looked forward to going to work).

But the job that I loved and found very fulfilling is one that is treated condescendingly in the current social climate. I loved being a homemaker for my family. One day I will write more about that.

During my years of paid employment, I dreaded Monday morning because it meant leaving my home, jumping back on the treadmill of trying to wedge family time, personal time, chores time, errands time, and church activities time into days where there was just not enough time. Weekends were looked forward to, but passed at light speed, crowded with trying to get all the things done that there wasn't enough time to do during the week.

And then it was Monday morning again; rush around getting ready, grab a bite of breakfast, and out the door.

Things are different now. I am retired, my kids are grown, I am widowed. My time is mostly my own. My calendar is clear. There is no pressure to Monday morning.

I may miss many things about the years of raising my children, the years of companionship with a great husband, but I do not miss the harried feeling as Monday morning approached and I knew I would again be leaving my home for The Job.

Monday mornings are just fine!