On weekdays You wake up. Clean up, dress up, go to work. then you arrive from work, clean up, pray and go to sleep. On weekends there's cleaning up to do, chores to get out of the way, ministries to attend to until the weekdays start again. And then you come home, lay your head on your pillow, and, because you can't sleep, think.
You always hope that tomorrow would be different, that something would happen--a crash of thunder, a bolt of lighting, a sudden flash of inspiration, an epiphany, anything-- that would shake you to your core and make you sit up and take notice; something that would make you realize just what it is you're supposed to be doing with your life, what your plans ought to be, what you should be doing to achieve those plans. You pray for wisdom, and yet even as you do, you battle for faith, every moment a fierce struggle between all you think you know and all that you see happening around you.
