It’s Tuesday afternoon. To me, Tuesday is the most nondescript day of the week: Sunday, of course, is the first day of the week and a day set aside for worship. Monday distinguishes itself from the others by being the dreaded day—the day for returning to work or school after “time off” over the weekend. Wednesday is known as “Hump Day,” not for anything wonderful or positive, but it still possesses a special status simply by falling in the middle of the week. Thursday is “almost Friday,” and it therefore carries with it a sense of anticipation. Friday—well, who among us has not given a silent or even audible cheer for the day that marks the end of the work week or school week and the promise of “playtime” when the sun rises the next morning? And Saturday, well, the mere mention of the word brings happiness to most people, primarily because of its position as the official “play day” of the week. (And yes, I realize that some people work on Saturdays, Sundays, etc., but the general “outline” of the week often follows the generic and stereotypical descriptions just noted.)
But then there’s Tuesday. It may seem that it has no unique qualities. It just sits there, surrounded by the dread of Monday and the gloom of “Hump Day,” yet in no way somber or dreaded. It quietly carries out its responsibilities from its unglamorous spot in the “Big Seven,” and it seems to enjoy its silent, unspectacular, consistent, often unnoticed role in our lives. As such, it is often a day of great productivity, because time is not spent wishing that we were “back at the weekend” or that we are “almost to the weekend” or even spent pining at the label of being the difficult-to-deal-with “Hump Day” in the middle of the week.
That’s why I love Tuesdays!
It’s why, when I created my weekly prayer list for various groups and individuals, I chose Tuesday as the day on which I pray for “my peeps”: those with no spouse in the house.
It helps to remind me that these precious friends might be surrounded on all sides by gloom and doom (the Mondays and Wednesdays of life—whether real or imagined), by lives that might seem more glamorous than their own, and by a constant longing for what is to come rather than the joy of the moment that is. And in many cases, they are standing there alone, unapplauded, and feeling oh so unspectacular.
Yes, many with a spouse in the house often feel the same way. Yes, many without a spouse in the house feel very different from these broad-brush statements about them. But many—yes, many—feel like an “insignificant Tuesday.”
But you, my friend with no spouse in your house, are significant. You matter. To think, feel, or speak otherwise is something every person on earth—regardless of his or her marital status—most likely deals with at some time or another. But it’s not a place where you can or should linger.
This isn’t my opinion. This isn’t me giving you an “inspirational, motivational pep talk.” It’s me, pointing you to the words of the One Who created you. (And He created the seven days and seven nights too!) Stand tall, knowing that you are what you are supposed to be, who you are supposed to be, and where you are supposed to be today—Tuesday, August 18, 2015!
13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
16 You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.
17 How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
18 I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!
And when I wake up,
you are still with me!
—Psalm 139:13–18, NLT