Turned on my computer the other morning, barely had time to sip my coffee before a message at the bottom of the screen jumped out at me: “We’re halfway through the week.” It seemed like a simple note, but it stuck with me long after. I started thinking about how quickly time moves—how we blink and suddenly whole weeks, months, and even years have slipped by almost unnoticed. That realization hit me especially hard that morning: we’re not just halfway through the week, we’re well past the halfway point of the year.

It made me pause and ask myself the uncomfortable question: What have I actually accomplished so far this year? I had big goals—two books to publish. Had pictured myself holding them in my hands by now, proud and relieved. Instead, I’m still tangled up with the first one, facing a new setback every time I think I’m finally making progress. The second book isn’t much further along either. Sure, the cover’s done, and I know what I want it to be about, but the drive I started the year with is nowhere to be found. It’s like all my discipline and motivation have evaporated, and I can’t quite remember how to get them back.

That halfway marker in the year made me think about the bigger halfway points in life. There’s a big difference between being halfway through a year and realizing you might be halfway through your life. That kind of milestone forces you to look at all the things—big and small—that have pulled you away from your original intentions. I began to reflect on the distractions that crept in, the habits that slowed me down, and the opportunities I let pass because I was too tired, too busy, or just too uncertain. It’s easy to get discouraged when you focus on what hasn’t happened, on the progress you haven’t made.

But in the middle of that self-critique, there’s a strange comfort. Really, don’t know how I ended up off track, and certainly didn’t plan for all these obstacles to arise. Yet, I have this quiet sense that God knew all along where I’d land. Even when I’m confused, frustrated, or disappointed in myself, there’s a bigger plan at work—one I can’t always see. Remembering that gives me hope. It’s not a magic fix, but it reminds me that I’m not lost, not really. Even in the middle of this confusion, I can trust that I’m right where I’m supposed to be, in God’s care, and that’s enough to keep moving forward.

O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up; You understand my thought afar off. You comprehend my path and my lying down, And are acquainted with all my ways. (Psalm 139:1-3 NKJV)

Thank you for your continued readership and support. Until next week…Blessings and Peace!

© Rhema International 2025. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Rhema International.