Leftovers

(1-Minute Read)

My fridge is full of more turkey, pie, green bean casserole, gravy, stuffing, and potatoes than we could ever eat. Thanksgiving was great yesterday. I ate way too much and loved it.

My heart was full, too. I consumed as many smiles and laughs as I did desserts. I gorged myself on the love of family and the joy of togetherness. I stuffed myself with hugs and stories and fun.

And now I’m sitting alone on this cold Friday morning… wondering if I should fill my online shopping cart with Black Friday deals.

The day after a big holiday is always strange, isn’t it?

The quiet sets in. The house is motionless. And suddenly we’re left with… leftovers.

Leftover deliciousness in the fridge. And leftover… feelings inside.

Leftover longings. Leftover aches. Leftover regrets. Leftover prayers. Leftover loneliness. Leftover grief. Leftover hopes we didn’t say out loud.

Ever feel that?

That spiritual hangover of “the day after”?

There’s a line in Lamentations (3:22–23) that I find really beautiful:

“God’s compassions are new every morning.”

New every morning. Not just on the big days. Not just when the house is full. Not just when the table is overflowing.

Even today. In the quiet. In the leftovers. There is fresh compassion waiting for us.

So maybe the sacred invitation today is simple: Reach out to someone who might need a little compassion delivered through you. Someone who woke up with a fridge full of leftovers and a soul full of them too.

What is your soul hungry for today?

How can I pray for you?