I woke up this morning with my head in a fog, thinking what day is this? Soon some synapsis sent a signal that it was Monday. The Mamas and Papas started singing “Monday, Monday” to me.
I hated that song in 1966 and my affection still isn’t there today, some fifty-seven years later.
Every other day, every other day
Every other day, every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
But whenever Monday comes, you can find me cryin’ all of the time
No, I wasn’t crying nor do I expect to. God has placed me here for this time and for His purpose. Thus, I’m going to get dressed and get with the program. I’m leaving the Mamas and Papas in the review mirror. I just don’t have time for them.
Here is what I’m considering. It is put out by the psalmist of Israel.
Indeed, You have made my days as handbreadths, And my age is as nothing before You; Certainly every man at his best state is but vapor. Selah
This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it.
In the day when I cried out, You answered me, And made me bold with strength in my soul.
Isn’t that better?
Think about it.
Gary