Sunday morning

Sunday morning,

stillness, no spoken words

only worship faintly flooding

the apartment.

Praising, baking bread

washing dishes.


Blissful

in these moments,

I see better his plan

for rest, renewal

soul-searching,

listening, remembering.


I wrote this poem after a joy-filled morning of just being. I used to have more of these mornings in China, but in the US, I have allowed life to stomp out most of these spaces. After this morning of refreshment, though, I know I cannot continue on like this without carving these quiet spaces into my week. Here is some of the worship I enjoyed this morning on Spotify: Sunday Morning Playlist

How do you get refreshed? I would love to hear in the comments below; I have lots to learn.