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Tomorrow Must Be Sunday


Some evenings are different than others. You know what I mean.
Saturday evening, for example, is just not the same as Thursday evening.
On Sunday evening you know you have to go to back to work on Monday morning - on Wednesday evening you know the week is half over. For me the most relaxing is the last night of the work week. The tasks are done, the tough experiences are past, nothing is expected the next day but to relax and be with God, family, and friends.

You probably have had the confusing experience of a four-day weekend, or a vacation where your internal mental clock gets reversed and you go to bed thinking it "feels like Friday", or "feels like Saturday".
Right now that feeling is the easist way for me to answer the question "how are you doing".
I'm not sure what day it is. I'm feeling ...like that.

The fresh start of a new week used to come once in every seven days.
Now, however, as I walk into new mornings familiar painful baggage is following ...from time to time it overtakes me, and all my strength disappears. Then I feel somewhat like a skeleton, or a charade of strength ...morphed into slow motion by a dragging load of stress and pain that reappears each week from the last. I have seen the face of something horribly unforgettable. I may as well have been clutching Jaymun's hand over a thousand foot cliff, watched weights being attached to his legs the evening of Sep 28, and for two weeks felt him slipping out of my grasp one finger at a time and falling to his death. Switching to the spiritual dimension won't disguise what happpened here amid polite discussions. I have pictures of his face during the last weeks that I can never share ...pictures that would make your heart rage with sorrow.

Somehow God has given me faith in His plan, and the ability to understand that the root of this awful experience is the disease. That it was cancer that backed us into this corner, and that actually our path had months of additional beauty others would covet. I'm thankful for God helping us to learn things, and giving us the strength and opportunity to get that far. I know it is not fair to blame God for not giving us everything we wanted when He already gave us so much extra. And I know it is not fair to blame others for not being perfect when I am far from perfection myself.

But these emotional detours are costly traps that spring up when I least expect them
    ...the content in the last two paragraphs was unintended, took me thirty minutes to write,
and during those first seven sentences my world became so dark that the next five were a gasping attempt to recover.

Now that I've written both paragraphs I feel so tired and sad, I am ready for sleep.
It feels like I am at the end of a long hard week. Success and failure competed to consume my strength.
I can understand why Jacob answered Pharaoh the way he did.
I am ready to lay down all this trouble and have a day of rest.
Bad and ugly things have happened ...in our day and time nothing will ever look entirely beautiful.
Enough is enough already.

Without checking the calendar I think I know what day tomorrow must be.
The day of rest and peace. The day when things will make more sense.
I will wake up and just be quiet in the presence of God.
All this pain, confusion, and failure will be wiped away.
       Tomorrow must be the day...
I will be thankful for joyful times. I will appreciate the gifts of life.
I will be blessed, refreshed ...ready to help people and make a difference.
Partnerships will overcome obstacles.
Or maybe our Lord will come on the clouds. The final victory.
I will see with my own eyes that Jesus was holding Jaymun's hand even while I let him slip away.
   ...He will put our hands back together and Jaymun can lead me around.
This day was marred by struggles, pain, and defeat, but God will make a new day tomorrow.
Where I will see what Jaymun sees right now, and go forward.
I'm not all clear, but from the way today feels

Tomorrow must be Sunday.