The older I get, the more I wake up not knowing what day it is. That is particularly true on Mondays.
My favorite day of the week is Sunday. I enjoy attending church, fellowshipping with other Christians, and, of course, the Sunday worship services. I enjoy Sunday morning and evening like no other time of the week.
Since I became a Christian about 65 years ago, I have only missed a Sunday service when I was sick or had some emergency. Sunday is the most important day of the week for me, and it has been for years. I don't see it changing anytime soon.
As much as I love Sunday, I can't say the same about Monday. Sunday is filled with joy and, rejoicing and delightful fellowship. I get up each Sunday morning with great expectations. Monday is a different story, filled with gloom, doom, and a "What day is it?" mentality.
When I wake up on Monday morning, I often don't remember what day it is. Monday is the kind of day that I can't remember anything that I've done for the week because I haven't done anything for the week yet. I often forget it's the first day of the week. Confusion seems to be my partner.
Tuesday is not so bad because I can somehow remember the day, some of the things I did on Monday, and my plans for the rest of the week. But on Monday, I have to start the week all over again, and who has the energy to do that?
I understand that Saturday is the day we prepare for Sunday. I get that, and I do it every week. There should be some kind of law making Monday a day to recover from Sunday's activities and prepare for the week ahead.
Often, I'll wake up on Monday morning, look at The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, and say very soberly, "What day is it?"
Usually, she looks at me and says sarcastically, "I don't know; check your calendar."
By Wednesday, I will be in my regular work mode and get up every morning eager to start working on my weekly plans.
I've had a thought along this line. Sometimes, I'm going to sleep all day on Monday, get up Tuesday morning, and see if I remember what day it is. That might help me understand all this nonsense I wallow in every week.
I need to be very careful along this line. For example, if The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage knew I got up on Monday morning not knowing what my plans were for the day, she may make those plans for me. Believe me; she knows how to plan out every minute of every day.
That's one reason I need a calendar to schedule my plans for the week. It doesn't matter if I finish all those plans or not. It only matters that The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage sees I have scheduled work for myself.
The problem is that on Monday morning, when I get up, I'm not even sure what day it is, and there is a certain danger that The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage may come to my rescue.
After all these years, you would think I would have discovered a better way to plan my days.
The problem is that since my retirement, I have moved my office out of the church and into our home. When my office was in the church, I could get up Monday morning and say, "I gotta get to the church office and get started on my work for the week." I then could figure out what I was going to do for the day and the week ahead of me. That worked for many years.
I must say The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has taken advantage of this weakness of mine. On a Monday morning, when I get up and shuffle out to the kitchen, she greets me by saying, "What plans do you have for today?"
At that time, I usually mumble and confess that I don't know. Then she says, "That's good because we need to go across town and pick up a few things." Where she got the "we," I don't know.
After hearing this for a few years, I discovered she was talking about a whole day of shopping. Who knew?
Maybe I could plan better for Monday if I didn't get so excited about Sunday. Perhaps I could have some things on my "to-do list" that would occupy me for the whole day. Of course, even if I have such a list on Monday morning when I get up, I sometimes can't even remember my name.
It will be a shocking Monday when I get up very lucid, remember my name, and have a plan for the day all in my head. I don't think The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage would recognize me that day.
In all of my frustration, I was reminded of Philippians 4:6 – "Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God."
My frustration only brings stress into my life. Each day, I need to discipline myself to give the elements of my life over to God. Only He can sort out my life in a way that glorifies Him. Learning to pray for everything solves my problems.