April 30

It's been a heartbreaking kind of week in a lot of ways. Several people who are special to me have gotten terrible news, and it's painful to watch anyone you care about try to digest unwanted life-altering bits of information. It's hard to know that struggles loom for them. It's hard to know what to say or do.

In light of that, I was just sitting here in our family room when I became keenly aware of the sound of the clock on the wall. I don't think about that clock very often; on most days, its rhythmic tick-tock fades into obscurity amid the ongoing din of routine existence. But not tonight.

I can't speak for anyone else, but I know something about myself: time is one of the things I'm most likely to take for granted. I'm always telling the kids "okay, give me five minutes while I finish what I'm doing" and then suddenly it's 20 minutes later and I still haven't moved. I'm not as good at living in the moment as I'd like to be. So right now, in this reflective moment while I call out to God and ask Him to be with my friends who are in the midst of being pressed by some of life's more challenging ringers, I'm thankful for the tender, quiet, steady reminder to really, truly live, breathe, and exist through every second of every day.