Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the
I carefully extract my arm from under the sleeping baby, her curly head snuggling deeper into the pillow when I gingerly climb over her and tiptoe across the bedroom. It's all about stealth, this covert operation with quiet time as the goal. I'm optimistic, high hopes held firmly by the realistic knowledge that this could all fall apart in a moment. Just one misstep on a creaky stair in our hundred-plus year old home could whisk these quiet moments from my grasp in a heartbeat. I barely breathe as I make my way down the stairs.
It has happened a thousand times before. In some seasons, success is common and I get it, a warm cup of coffee and maybe even a few chapters into the bible before the kids wake up and find me. In others, I give up for a while, so constantly are my plans foiled. It has taken years for me to realize this doesn't mean an end to my spiritual growth, the lack of truly quiet, one on one time in the word. It merely requires a different view.
Growing up, my mom was always telling us to do everything as unto the Lord. As kids, we'd secretly roll our eyes and think "yeah, right. What does God care about my attitude when I'm working math problems, or how thoroughly I dusted the living room? Why on earth would He care that I shoved those clothes in the dresser in a mangled mess instead of intentionally doing it right?"
As with so many of the lessons my parents taught me, this one was slow to take hold in my life. A good thing to remember for me, as I harp on and on about the same things with my own kids and watch as time and again they fail to truly get it. Sometimes these truths we speak are like tiny seeds, hidden deep in the recesses of their hearts until the right time, when the right mixture of maturity and faith allows them to bloom.
Now I take that beautiful gift of gospel truth my Mom taught me and hold it tightly on those days when guilt threatens to trip me up. Everything as unto the Lord means that those babies waking before I crack my bible in the morning is not a missed opportunity or lack of proper discipline. It's the possibility of inviting Him into my life just as it presents itself. Making breakfast for my kids, shouting our daily readings over the din and chaos of wiggling little people. You don't miss out on time with God when you fail to get 20 minutes to an hour of peace. The only missed opportunity is when you believe that your noisy messy life can't possibly be the place He chooses to meet you.
There are good days and not so good days but never a day where I go to bed thinking God didn't show up. Because He always, always does. The days where I feel good and we get everything done and the days where one thing after another fails to go to plan.
A vibrant, rich spiritual life is possible no matter what your day holds. Today I'm remembering just this.
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