Today felt heavy, even upon waking.
Perhaps I dreamt something that my subconscious couldn’t put down. More likely, my body knew before my mind that today’s pace would resemble that of recent days — little variance, little reprieve.
Sometimes, I remind myself of what I’d like to do, but these thoughts seem far removed, almost as if they belong to another person who happens to look like me.
Do I even possess the energy to be that girl?
People post on social media their vacations, dinners, adventures, loved ones, and more.
I do not envy them, as I’m thankful for their participation in this short time called life.
I’ve lived similar lives in my lifetime, so I understand the place and value that such experiences hold — rich, full, and satisfying in ways that are often overlooked until you have more time to look back than you have left to live.
Still, there is no deficit in a life experienced in gratitude, no matter the size of the cup or the portion of the wine.
With wisdom, you learn that less can be celebrated, and fullness is more than simply filling up time.
And yet, even thankful souls can become weary with the drudgery of days.
Months pass with little variation other than the body and mind aging.
Bills to be paid.
Tasks to be performed to pay the bills.
And so on. And so on.
Downtime can become scarce, and when present, may be too unnatural to enjoy.
Perhaps we are not ungrateful as much as we are burned out.
Schedules become “have to’s” with little margin for play.
When did play become something left in childhood?
We move from the office chair — to the couch — to the bed.
Only our imagination is free enough to be active. All else is tied to deadlines and responsibilities.
We are useful but used up.
We can be our own judge and jury, often generous with criticism and sparse with compassion.
That is, until someone or something unexpected interrupts the hazy color of monotony and offers a bit of clarity.
By shifting our focus away from our world, different facets of the globe emerge, exposing savannahs of the human spirit to be explored.
A shimmer of hope catches our attention — a reflection of peace beckons us near and nearer still.
Yet, even the stars know their place; the fallen ones know they cannot touch land. And we cannot touch them… yet.
Some wishes are tied to people now keeping company in Heaven; others are waiting for Heaven to come down.
Until we are reunited, we walk on land owned by the keeper of the stars — paid in full by the blood of the Light of the World.
We understand the fleeting nature of life in the flesh and the eternal promise of life with Christ.
How do we reconcile this plight of actively dying while being born into eternal life?
How do we remain joyful in spirit in a world heavy in heart?
The ash of yesterday’s ruins and tomorrow’s embers causes us to rise in today’s fire wearing the full armor of God.
Where do we run for refuge — for strength?
To God is the answer, both in Heaven and Earth.
Lord, when the days are long and the nights are restless, I pray Your love provides relief and allows us to rest in Your presence, power, and peace. Lord, hold us so tight that even our thoughts must wrestle themselves to exhaustion, submitting to Your will and timing. And what is left, sift us, dear Lord, so that nothing is added or removed that does not glorify You. Savior of sinners, You see us better than we see ourselves. Your grace is plentiful. Your love is a lavish, soothing balm to tired muscles, exhausted minds, and aching hearts.
Your Word I pray in Your name: “Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me” (Psalm 51:12).
Be with us, Lord Jesus. Be with us.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. For more inspirational articles, follow ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.