Day is nearly done. Night settles into cold darkness.

Fresh baked bread sits on the counter. Maisie sleeps on her big pillow beside me. The fire pops as if it were real and not just gas spurting through artificial logs.

We have food, clothing, shelter. And we are content.

I hear from friends both near and far and anticipate communion with them next week. We nap on the couch, snuggled under fleece throws, gifts from a giving hand.

The Sabbath is nearing its end for us. Tomorrow is a day of doing and going and accomplishing. But today, I can be unhurried, relaxed, accepting my limitations and that I do not run the universe.

We are blessed beyond measure, more than we deserve. Grace upon grace flows down from the Fathers benevolent hand.

God is in His Heaven, but He is also here with us.

Sunday grace.