The weeks fly through me

The weeks seem to pass by so quickly nowadays. It sort of feels like I take two or three days at a time, they blend together one after another in such rapid succession. It's Monday now but I know that Friday will come before it should, and yet another week will have passed through me, another week older, another week aged.

The problem is not that time moves quickly, the problem is that I do not move so quick. I'm not fast enough to keep up, each day is filled with lackluster responsibilities, focusing on a future that keeps delaying itself, moving itself ahead of my grasp week by week, day by blended day. I'm tired and I'm cold and I'm tired of running alone. For once I wish all 24 hours would pass as slowly as they seem. Each minute be lengthened, or at least my capacity for it be lengthened. I long for a time when each tiny minute is bursting with opportunity, with anticipation, it's sides flexed, pregnant with hope, spilling itself into the next minute.

First the weeks come quickly, then when four of them have passed comes a month which passes with seemingly the same speed as the week. And with each passing one, older, older, older.

Though I will never be able to slow this spinning globe, or slow the sun from appearing overhead, I can quicken myself to catch time. To grasp the minutes before they slip from my fingers and begin and end without me. I can take advantage of every opportunity, rushing and rolling through the setting days, breathing, knowing, praying that I may be as full of opportunity as were the weeks that I've traveled before, and bursting with the hope and opportunity of the minutes, weeks and years that light the way before me.

God, breathe into me the determination, perseverance and discipline that you require. Make me a man crafted in your image. God, let me make you proud.