The end of the week brings about a good deal of tiredness in me. Of having to face the daily grind of 30 connections to and from work for the 5 days of work. Three going and three going home. In the cold and in the heat and in the rain and in the snow. Luckily, this winter has seen the absence of the real cold and the high snows. On the way to work on Thursday morning, it POURED yet, I forgot my umbrella. This weather is so hard to predict of what it is going to do after all. Yet, it does take a toll at times and crashing at the end of the week in slumber is a great relief.
In a sense of word play on the final and 30th link for the week, I thought through various notions of the word tired. How in the beginning of the day, I retire from my bed, get dressed in my daily attire, then retire out the door and onto the daily commute.
It will be great to retire and rest from all of the labors of the years. Will that ever be great. Yet, I will have to wait until that day comes. And I will be glad when it does come.
so here is a little poem based on the roots of the word tired.
Splish splash. All upon the head. Clutching the red Fairfield U. Bag in my hand tight so as not to get the contents drenched. You see, no umbrella over my head. It is safely tucked on the table by my front door. I left it there and forgot to bring it on the journey.
The song rain drops keep falling on my head. And the steady pouring of the droplets on my head as well.
Tired, retired from the day, attired in clothes that have been through sun and snow and rain for the week. And a soul that has been distant and also close to you God all the while you being very present in the very journey of my life, always at my side.
Thanks to you for that Lord.
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