Sunday has ruined me for other days.
Sunshine, windows down, music sailing through speakers, it’s like his wind whispers: you’ll never be able to settle when you see how I’ll always come back around for you.
I’ve tried to fall in love with Mondays, Thursdays, but they can’t hold a shred of my heart once he starts knocking.
He is gentle in the way he loves me. He brings friends with fresh flowers and comes with steeples that hover over people who are also trying to learn about this thing called grace.
I love that he makes me feel comfortable to be natural, barefoot and lazy. I’m never afraid to let my hair down, to dance and twirl on hardwood floors. Together, along with caramel coffee, we don’t focus on the questions, the worry, what we don’t know. He’s my day, it’s that plain and simple. Sunday has got me wrapped around his finger.
He’s painted with laugh lines and leans in to remind me that even when it’s hard, i’m going to be just fine.
Sunday ruined me for settling.
God knows I’ve tried. I’ve drawn maps and written pages about how maybe just maybe, I could try and hold hands with people and things that just weren’t ever meant to be mine. But then there’s Sunday, and he starts shoveling hope back to this heart like he did when I was eight, twelve and fifteen; he does it now, just weeks away from twenty-three.
I’m not going to stand here and tell you that it’s easy to hold onto hope. I’m not going to grab your hands and force you to grip the end of this rope and wait for a love like Sunday. I’m just going to tell you that you could. I think you could do it.
You don’t have to wait. I’m not saying that you’re doomed to loneliness unless you find perfection. What I am telling you is that, I don’t want to be the one who settles.
Not in a world where I can string together Sundays and know what it feels like to be so completely delighted in.
Not when there’s ice cream and good conversation on the front porch to be had. I can’t settle when there are backyard campfires to be around while sitting on blankets, roasting hotdogs and drinking root beer.
I can’t settle when I really do believe that love exists, that it can be strong enough to overcome death and that I was born to be fought for and absolutely adored. I can’t settle for “making something work” or something that’s “logical and just makes sense”.
I left social media for a while to discover how to be enchanted by the world again and I think I’m finally there. I think today, Sunday, sealed the deal for me. I’m starting to remember that the world is pretty glorious, pretty breathtaking place and that hope isn’t foolish, it isn’t a recipe for disappointment.
Foolishness is giving up on what you’ve bruised your knees in prayer for.
It”s up to you to decide if you want more. Decide if you believe that better things than what you’re wanting to settle for are really worth the wait.
I’m going to tell you that I want to learn to leave people feeling the way I feel about Sundays. I want to be a reason for people to think they’re made for much better than settling.
Sundays have ruined me for being disenchanted and for telling people that it’s okay to choose anything less than what makes them better, what makes them feel adored. I want them to be inspired to love with a kind of love that’s overwhelming and that sets the bar for those who’ve never known what it means to be truly, wholly and completed delighted in.
I’m ruined for anything less than life filled with love like Sundays.
4 thoughts on “Sunday and Not Settling”
This was so beautifully written. My favorite part was “foolishness is giving up on what you’ve bruised your knees in prayer for”. I think I’m going to start telling myself that when I’m doubting myself. Thank you.
Loved this! “Stringing Sunday’s together” so true and such a solid reminder!
Reblogged this on everythingalwayshappensforareason.