6:15am. Tuesday morning. I walked into the gym and saw the same people, went through the same motions, carried on the same conversations, ran the same laps, smiled the same smile.

But I wasn't the same.

I've gotten to know a lot of people in these past few months of routine. The ladies at the library know when its my day to come in for books and movies and comment when I'm later than usual. I know by name the receptionists at the gym and get to know them a bit more each day. I joke around with the fellow sweating insane who are at the gym before 7:00am.

Sometimes I wonder who they really are and what they are dealing with, but there's just not time to ask.

Then came the day when my life was at its darkest. Or, rather, it sure felt that way. Granted, I've had worse days. And, yes, there was a lot to be thankful for even in the midst of the turmoil. But I was hurting. My typically cheerful (morning person) self was heavily burdened and as I went through the motions and felt the darkness and watched the same smiles and gave the same smiles, I had to wonder: what pain is behind their smiles?

I watch so many people all day every day. Whether its outside my office or at the gym or during Sunday School or in the library, I watch people. But as I see, I don't really see.

When they see, they don't really see.

"Hi! How are you today?" someone will ask.

I'm awful, thank you, would be the honest reply. But is that what I say? No.

"Fine, thanks. And you?"

They don't care -- but do I? I have Jesus' love to show to the world. I have hope for a dying nation. I have joy in the sadness. I know there will be beauty from pain. Yet what do I do? I ask "How are you?" and I don't really care. I walk past the crying lady at the park. I ignore the frazzled mom who obviously needs help navigating the grocery store with her three toddlers. I shut myself off  from people and instead focus on my own petty problems, without acting on the truth that there are people who are needing the love of My Jesus to help them through their day.

My Jesus cares. Why don't I?

I see the city lights all around me
Everyone's obscure
Ten million people each with their problems
Why should anyone care

And in Your eyes I can see
I am not just a man, vastly lost in this world
Lost in a Sea of Faces
Your body's the bread, Your blood is the wine
Because you traded Your life for mine

Sometimes my life it feels so trivial
Immersed in the greatness of space
Yet somehow you still find the time for me
It's then You show me Your love

And In Your eyes I can see
And in Your arms I will be
I am not just a man, vastly lost in this world
Lost in a Sea of Faces
Your body's the bread, Your blood is the wine
Because you traded Your life for mine
[Kutless]

Today, I have to accomplish the impossible.

A constituent has become very angry with our office, the agency office, the government, and the world. He's been trying to get something done for almost a year and now wants it done by this afternoon.

In my phone call with him yesterday at 5pm, he not only yelled at me and, by proxy, my boss, but called me incompetent and threatened to go fix the problem himself. I will spare you the harshness of the language and the intensity of my frustration toward this less-than-pleasant gentleman. But the point is that we have done what we were supposed to do, albeit slower than it should've been with the initial inquiry a year ago, but now its up to me to make it a fairy tale ending.  

Its a challenge. And I'm going to prove to him that I can do this. Here comes an intense day.

Knock 'em dead, Jenn...