Days of Being: December 3

It was the first Sunday of Advent—the beginning of a new church year, the beginning of a season that draws Christians into the story of God’s loving provision for His children. She woke before the rest of her family, possibly before the rest of her street. Early weekend mornings were her favorite mornings. She usually had a good chunk of time to herself to read and write and pray. And check social media. The previous night she declared that Sunday, and every Sunday moving forward, would be social media-free. She wanted to refrain from Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram all day until sundown. She wanted to enter more fully into the Sabbath and thought it would be a good idea to put a moratorium on scrolling through the photos, opinions, headlines, memes, cat videos, and everything else.

She walked into the dim living room and dining area—the sun had just begun to rise and offer itself to the night. She grabbed a lighter and lit the first candle of the Advent wreath, and she grabbed her phone and took a photo. She couldn’t help it. (Well, maybe she could have helped it, but she didn’t want to help it.) She edited the image of the burning candle, opened up Instagram, applied the Slumber filter, and posted it along with the Collect for the First Sunday of Advent, Rite One from The Book of Common Prayer. She posted it all to Facebook, too, where she also inserted a statement that she would be off of social media for the rest of the day and if anyone needed her, they could email or call. 

She made some coffee, poured a mugful, and sat down at the dining room table, basking in the glow of that one purple candle. She wrote in her journal and contemplated this season of waiting. 

While she drank, basked, wrote, and contemplated; her phone notified her of the “likes” the photo was receiving. Then she felt good about herself because the photo made her home look clean, warm, and inviting; and people she knew and loved approved her message. 

I’d love for you to share one of your ordinary moments in the comments below.  Or you can submit a few sentences about one of your ordinary moments and I’ll write a Days of Being entry to post online and on Instagram. If you’d like to participate, email me at

Days of Being is a micro-memoir and micro-story project exploring memories and moments from our ordinary days. Multiple years are represented within the project celebrating what Madeleine L’Engle once said: “I am still every age that I have been.” Today’s micro-memoir is from one of my December 3s.