In the greater context of my life, I've grumbled those words with reluctance, angst, and often even bitterness, never once considering the unfair implications I might be putting on this poor, defenseless day. Funny how that all changes when you send a missionary out into the field.
A typical weekend at the Worlton house consists of family recreation, date nights, chores, church meetings, and many other forms of generalized "busyness." It's with a sigh of relief that I fall into the comfort of my bed each Sunday night. But, sleep is often hard to find. Before my head even hits the pillow, my mind starts racing with anticipation. How was his week? Is he doing okay? What does he need? What has he learned? My heart can hardly wait til morning.
I often wonder how they did it, you know, "back in the day?" It had to have been torture to snail mail a letter and have to wait a week, or two, or even more for a response. I can't help but love this modern age of rapid technology and easy communication. I simply hit the "send" button to post my email and within seconds it travels across the world to my missionary. He, of course, won't open it quite then. We are on different time zones. He is still in bed.
Slowly I drift to sleep,
Somewhere in the deep, unsolicited chambers of my mind, an alarm goes off at almost precisely 4:00 am each morning. While I have absolutely no reason to be up so early, this little routine can be quite frustrating and even bothersome on most days. Monday, however, I welcome the little disturbance.
I retrieve my smart phone from the corner of my nightstand, then, careful not to wake my husband, I build a little blanket fort over my head and tuck myself and my phone inside. It's light is bright at first, burning my eyes with its illumination. I blink a few times then, like magic, everything comes into focus. Moments seem like eternities as I wait for my emails to load. Fourteen new messages, it says. And, right at the top of the list, my very favorite one.
I look at the time stamp. Could it be? Did I actually catch him today? 3:58 it says. My clock reads 4:02. My heart jumps and I take a little chance:
"Hey, son! Are you there?"
The message flies through space (and maybe even time!) with miraculous speed. I hold my breath with each anticipatory second that slips by.
"Yes, silly mother. Why are you up?"
Being awake at this ridiculously early hour suddenly has its benefits. For the first time in months, I am able to have a somewhat "normal" conversation with my son. In the quiet of my blanket fort, we "chat" back and forth until his time runs out. I can almost hear his voice and see his quirky little smile as he tells me to "have a good week and GO TO SLEEP!" Oh, how I miss my boy!
"I love you, mom," his last message ends. I hold the phone in my hand for a moment hoping maybe another little message will follow. I don't give up hope until the screen goes to sleep. I take my cue, disassemble my fort, set my phone back on the nightstand, and fall back onto my pillow.
What a blessing technology is. Mondays have become my favorite day.
Slowly I drift back to sleep. And this time, I actually get some rest. Monday mornings just might be as fabulous to a missionary mom as Christmas morning is to an eager child!
I retrieve my smart phone from the corner of my nightstand, then, careful not to wake my husband, I build a little blanket fort over my head and tuck myself and my phone inside. It's light is bright at first, burning my eyes with its illumination. I blink a few times then, like magic, everything comes into focus. Moments seem like eternities as I wait for my emails to load. Fourteen new messages, it says. And, right at the top of the list, my very favorite one.
I look at the time stamp. Could it be? Did I actually catch him today? 3:58 it says. My clock reads 4:02. My heart jumps and I take a little chance:
"Hey, son! Are you there?"
The message flies through space (and maybe even time!) with miraculous speed. I hold my breath with each anticipatory second that slips by.
"Yes, silly mother. Why are you up?"
Being awake at this ridiculously early hour suddenly has its benefits. For the first time in months, I am able to have a somewhat "normal" conversation with my son. In the quiet of my blanket fort, we "chat" back and forth until his time runs out. I can almost hear his voice and see his quirky little smile as he tells me to "have a good week and GO TO SLEEP!" Oh, how I miss my boy!
"I love you, mom," his last message ends. I hold the phone in my hand for a moment hoping maybe another little message will follow. I don't give up hope until the screen goes to sleep. I take my cue, disassemble my fort, set my phone back on the nightstand, and fall back onto my pillow.
What a blessing technology is. Mondays have become my favorite day.
Slowly I drift back to sleep. And this time, I actually get some rest. Monday mornings just might be as fabulous to a missionary mom as Christmas morning is to an eager child!
I think The Mamas and the Papas best sum up my feelings today:
"Monday, Monday,
so good to me.
Monday mornin'
it was all
I hoped it would be."
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