On Fridays (at least on a few recent ones), I find myself wondering where the week went. How have I not accomplished what was at the start of the week a rather simple to do list? Why am I so tired? Why is there so little done on [insert project of the moment here]?
It flummoxes and it confounds, I tell you – flummoxes and confounds.
(‘Flummox’ is a great word, by the way.)
And in the midst of it all, I know I need to take some time to be still, to pray and read, and to listen. Yet these are the things I often tuck away with promises of ‘later’. There is so much to do, after all.
Even in the midst of this busyness, of prayers for needed shifts and changes and re-arranging of things … I know. I know I’ve got the order all backwards.
What to do?
Press on—that’s what I’m trying to do. To pick up, dust off, and press on again in a new day, in a new hour, a new second chance (times infinity).