45 Minutes

I have 45 minutes to pull myself together.

45 minutes to go from a bathrobe and wet hair going in every direction to nicely dressed, with styled hair and makeup.

45 minutes to treat my traumatized dry skin with lotion.

45 minutes to convince myself that I really do WANT to do the two things that I've scheduled for today, and that I'll enjoy them, and that I'm not doing them out of guilt and obligation.

45 minutes to shake the ghosts of dreams from a restless night, and pull myself into a space that will engage with Jesus when I sit down on that stacking chair at church.

45 minutes to pray for a meeting I'm having this afternoon. One that I'm anticipating and dreading in nearly equal parts.

45 minutes to decide if I can eat something this morning, or if I'm going to have to pack some snacks that will get me through the day.

45 minutes to make a cup of tea to-go.

45 minutes until I need to walk out my front door, with a smile on my face, and engage the day.