Inside the birdsong

Wow. 

I just love Sunday mornings.

No one has anything they need to get up for.  Which means I actually get that first hour or two completely to myself -- is that selfish of me?  I drank my coffee, read my book, lit my candles, sat in my chair, and meditated for an extra 20 minutes, just sitting, allowing the sweet bird outside my dining room window to sing me into the morning.... Pure heaven.

And though the day is actually dark and rainy, inside the birdsong it felt like spring, green and alive with potential and wonder.  And so I sat, wrapped in my blanket and wonder, and listened; allowing the hope to blossom in my chest.

This, I think, is what church should feel like.