Sundays have become sacred in ways I never expected.
Not because they’re perfect. Not because all the problems disappear before the weekend ends. But because Sunday gives me permission to stop performing long enough to remember who I am.
Lately, life has been… whooping me.
Work has demanded more than I thought I had to give. Healing has required honesty instead of speed. Relationships have invited me to trust instead of control. Even joy has asked something of me—to stay present long enough to receive it.
And yet…
I am flourishing.
I don’t say that because everything is easy. I say it because my roots have gone deeper than my circumstances.
I’ve noticed something about myself. Every Sunday, I seem to spiritually “touch grass.”
The world uses that phrase to mean getting outside, disconnecting, and remembering real life. For me, it’s something deeper. It’s sitting with God without rushing the conversation. It’s laughing with my children. It’s reading words that stretch my thinking. It’s praying for strangers on my SoftLife Channel while God quietly ministers to me. It’s going to the gym because my body deserves kindness, not punishment. It’s watching horses stare back at me as if creation itself recognizes the need for stillness.
Sunday reminds me that I don’t have to earn peace.
I simply have to notice it.
This season has taught me that flourishing isn’t the absence of hardship. Flourishing is continuing to bloom while carrying the weight of real life. It is choosing gratitude without pretending. It is allowing yourself to rest without apologizing. It is believing God is just as present in the ordinary as He is in the miraculous.
Maybe that’s why I look forward to Sundays now.
They are my reset.
My reminder that I am more than deadlines, responsibilities, unanswered questions, and unfinished goals. They remind me that before I am a therapist, mother, writer, friend, or dreamer, I am God’s daughter.
That identity asks nothing of me except to come close.
Tomorrow will bring another week. There will be emails to answer, decisions to make, people to care for, and dreams still waiting for their appointed time.
But today…
Today I am touching grass.
Today I am letting my soul exhale.
Today I am remembering that grace grows quietly, often beneath the surface, long before anyone sees the bloom.
And perhaps that is flourishing after all.
Do well in your journey. You’re worthy.
Graced for more,
Michelle
©️Intimately Worded, Michelle
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