I am tired. And weak. And confused.

Some mornings, I wake up expecting a tsunami of possible bad recits, failed exams, and terrifying professors to rip me into unrecognizable shreds. Other mornings, I wake up in a middle of a battle between the soul and the flesh. Some mornings, I feel the enemy strike with a downpour of arrows–all aimed to crush the fainting heart. And other mornings still, I wake up staring at the imposing mountain of uncertainty.

And then, I realize that this is what a pilgrim is in the middle of an unknown and dark highway–tired, weak, confused.

I also realize that I am a pilgrim. It is the thought of home that keeps me going. It is the thought of my Father who will meet me at the gates with His loving and tender arms that causes my heart to sing with joy.

Grace shall lead me home.