Your heat kicked on with a forceful blast of 82 degree air shooting through your vents. Your candles were lit and gospel music was playing through your Bluetooth speaker set.

You were praying. Worshiping. Surrendering.

It had been a long time since you allowed yourself the time, and space to pray. You were so consumed with anger for God that you didn't want to talk to Him. You barely wanted to acknowledge His presence since, for so long, it felt like He'd been absent. You wanted to ignore Him and everything He previously told you about His plan for your life. This night, though, you needed something different.

Being mad at God wasn't yielding you any results different than the ones that got you in this downward spiral, anyway. The only direction you could think to go was toward Him; so you did. You filled your apartment with the sound of worship and ushered your heart into a spirit of praise and thanksgiving. You started by thanking God for all He'd done. At first you started with a generic thanks, "thank You for life, health, and strength." You then got deeper, "thank You for the love and support I've been receiving during this trying time in my life." The more you thanked God, the more you thought of to thank Him for, despite your year being full of tragedy and mourning (something only definable by your own standards).

2017: Get the Hell On was the title of this year's memoir. You were determined to turn it around. You finally got out of your own way, and knelt at the feet of The One who could make it all better. "Lord, please send the morning." The time was 11:42pm. But, you knew as soon as your 6:00am alarm rang, you'd be new. You'd be restored. You knew that, as soon as the sun peaked through your blinds the next day, your pain would be washed away. You had hope in that much...at least.

Morning came and went. You felt no different. You were still angry. Still broken. You expected a miracle to happen as the sun rose, and were quickly reminded: not today.

So here you are, another day, another night, another moment, waiting for morning...again. Another morning. Another try. Another attempt at healing and wholeness and growth. Another attempt at redemption and restoration. Praying today but waiting until tomorrow to feel it. To hear it. To see it. To experience it.

Morning is neither a day nor time.

All the times you prayed for better tomorrow's, you hadn't realized that the tomorrow you were hoping for still rested in today.

Morning is a state of mind. It's a state of being. It's a recognition. It's a peace. It's an aura. Morning is with us every time we choose to look toward the light instead of resting in darkness. Morning is with us every time we decide to crawl through the pain. Morning is with us every time we decide to get up and fight another day; choosing not to be consumed by our circumstance, but to live above it.

Many of us get lost in the thought that morning is a place in time. That we have to wait until the sun rises again. That we have to sit still until the the top of the year, or the first of the month. Few of us recognize that morning is wherever you make it -- in the middle of the night, the second week of October, or 2:00 on a cloudy Thursday afternoon. Morning is the moment you decide to reawaken yourself, and find the joy you've been praying for. Morning is the point in which you accept God's will for your life, and adorn yourself in armor suitable for this type of battle. Morning lies within you, not in time, or days, or Earth's movement around the sun.

You're told in church to just wait for morning. That you may have to endure for another moment, but morning is merely hours away. Sis, morning is right here. Right now. Morning is the decision you make to be better. To do better. To feel better.

So next time you pray for morning, don't rush to bed. Don't count the hours. And, don't just wait for the sun to begin peaking through your blinds. Instead, use that very moment to declare morning over your life, and recognize when it has already arrived.