I was pretty much entirely at my computer this past week and awake until after 11pm (sometimes after midnight) in order to get everything ready for the next day of online learning.

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I was, as they say, ‘spent’. But it was now the weekend.

I crawled into bed later than I wanted to on Friday night. I’d attempted to get as much done as I could, so that I could have a bit of a weekend. Think: do my washing.

Falling asleep close to midnight, I woke up around 1am.

It was definitely a truck. My first thought: ‘Current Greater Sydney restrictions means no construction work is allowed and definitely not at this time of night.’

There’s been construction work happening up until recently near where I live, so I’m used to hearing trucks idling on and off. Yet, this was a lot closer than normal.

Once I could be bothered, I crawl up to my bedroom window to look out onto the street…

Seriously. Are you trying to break me?

And they continued on and off all through the night…. and… the day (as I inserted that picture typing this on Saturday afternoon at 3:30pm, I hear they’ve returned again).

As I lay there in the early hours of the morning, I thought, “Whatever they’re doing, it had better be critical, because it sure is noisy.”

By 8am, in the light of day with their big-tube-thing still shoved down the sewer I started hearing Bono in my head singing about being, as yet, still unable to find whatever it was he was looking for.

Are you enjoying the rant?

It gets better.

Noticing that it was a wonderful washing day for July – intermittent sunshine and strong wind – I got my washing done nice and early, hanging it on ‘the big rack’ on my balcony.

To cut a long story short, had the wind not blown ‘the big rack’ down the first time, I never would have used my half full watering can to attempt to keep it upright in the strong wind.

Attempt being the operative word there. That load went through the machine a second time around 2pm.

When I hung it out on the apartment communal washing line around 2:30, I saw the truck was in the driveway again. I started to wonder, ‘Should I offer assistance?’

But you know, not everything’s been bad: at least my sheets on the communal washing line were just on dry when I brought my additional offering at 2:30pm.

Thank-you Jesus.

I didn’t even mind getting slapped by my sheets as I attempted to manoeuvre them in the wind.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I thought. ‘They are dry.’

Yep. The bar is low right now.

I struggle to think about this in line with The Bible because I know that God’s bar never lowers. And yet, I know that he is also a gracious and compassionate God who understands my humanity.

How does it work then?

He always provides a way out.

He did it for the ancient Jews: From Ur. To Egypt. To Canaan. To exile… and back home again.

And he did it for us too.

He provided a way out for us all through Jesus.

A way out not just from fatigue, irritation and stress: although he does help with that too. It’s a way out from everything we’ve ever done that was wrong. He says it himself:

I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist.

When our bar is low, he raises it for us: not through our striving and achievements.

It’s through his Son.

So we can always ask him for forgiveness, no matter who we are, where we are, or what time it is…

Even if it’s 1:12am.

God is awake too.

Yours in being put back together,

Alison