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A Surprising Camaraderie

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2, 028.

That's roughly the number of Sunday mornings I've experienced so far in my lifetime. Let's say I spent roughly 1.5 hours each of those mornings at church (although it was more than that when I was in churches that had adult Sunday school classes).
That means I've been exposed to church, JUST on Sunday mornings, roughly 3,042 hours so far. That's equal to 126.75 days. 18 weeks.
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Time for some honesty. 
Time for some reflecting on...well, time. 

The Day Before

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The fog is lifting.
I can see a few more feet ahead of me on this journey I've been on. My steps feel more sure. More natural. More...dare I say it? Normal. I've found a rhythm that fits our new life and things are good. The dark doesn't seem quite as penetrating. The ground isn't as unsteady. What lies just around the corner isn't nearly so menacing as it once seemed in all its mysterious unknowns.
No, things are not perfect. The circumstances I find us in are not what I wanted or ever would have chosen for us. Not at all. And yet, things are good. So very good.
Every now and then I start to sigh with relief that surely, surely, I've learned all there is to learn about divorce and navigating life as a single parent. Surely I've reached the end of some aspects of divorce. Right, God? My journal is full of documented lessons and summaries of some of the things I've come to understand.
And yet there are still so many lessons God has yet to teach me. One …