24 hours

Another dawn.  Another day.  You've just gotten out of bed but you're already out of breath.  You wring your hands while looking at the last twinkling star in the dark sky of early morning and think, What will today be like?  Easier than yesterday? Harder? Can I really do this again?

God gives each of us a set of 24 hours.  My sets used to be straightforward and rather simple, but since Christmas they've been upsetting, unsettling, shifting like sand and at times downright frightening.  They've carved more out of me than I thought I had to give, and 8 hours sleep (if I'm lucky) doesn't often seem like enough time to refuel and get up and do it all over again.

When someone you live with is hurting, when someone you love deeply is a shell of their former self, when someone you gave life to doesn't want it anymore,

your world changes.

Your perspective shifts.

Your focus blurs,

and nothing looks the same.

But God never changes.  You cling to that truth even when you wonder if there really is a God. 

Just because your world is bouncing like a yo-yo on a string doesn't mean that God doesn't still have His finger in the loophole, keeping you tethered to Him whether you feel close or far from His presence.

The current set of 24 hours passes.  You look back and wonder how you got through it all.  And then you remember how.

It's because there really is a God.