When Triumph Is still on its Way

I am failing. I don't know when it started or what I did or if I could have even prevented it had I seen it coming. Total exhaustion is imminent. Yesterday I broke and it was not pretty. The last two days feel like months. We were talking earlier about how we're less than two weeks away from celebrating our passing of the half-way mark; now I wonder if I won't be back in B.C. by then. I don't know why I came and I don't know why I'm still here. I need prayer so bad it's ridiculous. Please pray for wisdom and strength and integrity and boundless energy. I am afraid that this might be the time that breaks up me and my affair with ministry for good.

If it were up to me, I'd be done.

But this is my prayer in the battle, when triumph is still on its way: I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ so firm on His promise I'll stand, and I will bring praise.

T Minus Nine Days, One Hour and Eleven Minutes

A wise young person told me the other day that turning 19 is exciting because of the drinking, 20 because of finally out-living the teens (that's where he's at in three days), and 21 because of the legal drinking and gambling in the States. And then there's me.

In nine days, I will officially be old. Don't ask me what that means for everyone already beyond me because you probably don't want to know what I think.

It's not so much that 22 is old. It's not. At all. It's more that I haven't done anything I wanted to have done by now.

I was supposed to be married at 20, have my first child at 21, and have graduated University with an accredited degree by 22. At the rate I'm going, I won't have any of those until I'm at least 25. All of them? 26 is the earliest.

I'd like to think that I'll be the type to age gracefully...but who am I kidding?! I'm terrified of almost entering my mid-twenties.

I'm in Whistler taking a much needed vacation right now. I haven't gotten away for me time in a very very very long time...and I can't even enjoy it.

I'm broken.

Okay, so maybe 22 isn't even that bad.

Maybe 22 is actually really good.

Aaaaand considering I look like I'm 15, I won't actually look like I'm 22 until I'm in my thirties.

Score.

But.

One day I will wake up, and I will be 32. I won't take 32 as well as 22.

The less credence I give to 22, the easier the bigger numbers will be able to catch me without my noticing.

I think I'm going to need a vacation to recover from this one.