It had been a rough week.
One cancelled flight.
One standing in line for 3 hours at 2 a.m., to schedule a new flight.
One measly hour and a half of sleep after that.
A quick trip south across the country, two nights there, then a return flight home with a stopover.
Then, as always, I hit the ground running.
Four days later, I was spent. I’d come from another day of running around, and then succumbed to the embrace of my easy chair, thinking, I don’t wanna to nothin’ but sit here.
Someone asked if they should set up the living room for Bible study.
“What day is today?” I asked doubtfully. “Thursday.”
Like a kid who just got invited to Disneyland, I jumped out of my chair, energized by the fact that in less than two hours, the teens would be coming over to the house, we’d open to the Gospel that Mark wrote, and we would learn, and laugh, and love, and be challenged.
Even I was amazed at myself. I knew I love the study, but I did not realize how much zap it was putting in me.
Man alive, we are so privileged here!