Today was one of those rare, holy little gifts… a day off with no hurry attached to it. No alarm hollering at me like it had been personally offended. No shoes needing to be found in a panic. No coffee being gulped down like medicine. Just me, the morning, and the kind of quiet that makes you realize how loud your own mind has been.

I am at the end of my first month at my new job, and let me tell you, switching from nights to days has been its own special brand of foolishness. My body has been trying to negotiate with time like it has a say in the matter. Still, as hard as the adjustment has been, it is so much better. There is something about being awake while the sun is up that feels like maybe the good Lord intended it that way all along.

I woke up without a single bit of rush in me. I had my morning devotion, did some writing, and gathered the news like I usually do. Now, that news gathering will wear a soul slap out. I go looking for what is real, what is true, what is not dressed up in somebody’s agenda and sent out to dance on a screen. And Lord, the chaos and inhumanity in this country right now can feel downright oppressive. Some mornings it presses on my chest before I have even finished my coffee.

But today, I did not let the whole wide world climb up in my lap and take over. I did what I felt like doing, when I felt like doing it, and that alone felt therapeutic. Not glamorous. Not Facebook or social media worthy. Just good, plain, ordinary medicine.

I washed things. I cleaned things. I moved things around. Apparently, when my mind is full of stress and chaos, my hands start rearranging the house like I am expecting company, an exorcism, or both. There is something deeply satisfying about taking a cluttered corner and making it behave. A folded towel can feel like a small victory. A clean counter can feel like an answered prayer.

I am in a season of trying to reduce my riches, which is a fancy way of saying I have too much mess and I am tired of dusting things I do not even like. I am cleaning my house, clearing out what I do not need, and letting go of the strange little treasures we humans convince ourselves are necessary. We hold on to so much. We are practically trained to believe every object deserves a permanent address in our lives. But every week, if I can end one day with a few trash bags gone, a tote filled, and a little less stuff staring back at me, my mind feels clearer too.

This evening, after I took out the trash and cooked myself dinner, I sat on the front porch right before twilight with Jake. Jake, bless him, will not eat until it is about dark, because apparently he has standards, rituals, and a full emotional support schedule. God help me, he is needy and crazy, but he is mine.

He finally ate, and then we sat there talking about the squirrels like two old folks with nowhere to be. We watched them run around gathering what they needed before the darkness came. That is one of my favorite things… twilight. That little hush before sundown when the silence somehow gets loud. Then, slowly, the day gives way and the bugs and frogs begin tuning up like they have been waiting behind the curtain all afternoon.

That cricket, frog, bug symphony gets me every time. God knows it does. It is not fancy music, but it is honest music. It says the day is done. It says breathe. It says sit down a minute, woman, before you start another project.

Later, I laughed watching Bad Boys, then played fetch with Jetson, who takes the game very seriously. I am trying hard to train myself to get up before the sun again, and I did not know it would be so hard to return to that rhythm. I used to know the early morning like a friend. Sunrise, another one of my favorite times, now we are awkward acquaintances waving from across the yard. But my ole self is working on it.

I miss my mornings spent outside, walking too. Let me just say this plainly… I am over the bugs. Completely. Entirely. With my whole Southern heart. I swear it is as if the gate to hell has been left open and swarms of biting, aggravating gnats have been released with instructions to find me personally. They do not bite like insects. They bite like they have grudges.

Still, even with the gnats, the tired body, the heavy news, and the long adjustment from nights to days, today was good. Not exciting. Not productive in a way the world would clap for. But good. It was a day of doing nothing much and somehow doing exactly what I needed.

Maybe that is what quieting the mind looks like sometimes. Not a retreat. Not a candlelit moment with perfect posture and soft music. Sometimes it looks like laundry, trash bags, porch sitting, talking to a needy dog about squirrels, and letting the twilight remind you that the world can be awful and beautiful at the very same time.

Today, I nourished my soul by giving myself permission to move slow, clear space, laugh out loud, and sit still long enough to hear the evening come alive. And honey, that may not sound like much, but around here, that is healing…

Today was a good day… Now I am going to lay me down to sleep, and pray the Lord, my soul to keep…
Nite Y’all…