Seeking out a quiet moment

More so than January, September is a habit-forming time. The good kind {I don't reach for a bottle with the changing leaves}. Early fall is ripe for evaluating the summer rhythm and adjusting for a new school year.

With two new babies to care for, my rhythm is grossly off kilter. Where I once had quiet afternoons to spend on study and writing and baking, big one begs for extra books and hungry infant screams for a bottle.

I rise early for the quietest moment I can find. Only God is stirring. Even the sun is hitting snooze. I sit over my tea replaying how many times I have failed with an early morning study time. But I can't fail this time. I've written my day twenty ways. This early moment is the only one.

I beg grace to wake me early and with gladness. That my joy in uninterrupted time at the Teacher's feet will override the urge to ignore my alarm.

The still moment is everything I need for a day. To calm and quiet my soul before the busyness begins.

I feel selfish taking this time for myself, hoarding God's attention. What an awesome God?! That He can give singular focus to His every creature at once. That I could sit seen by God while he infinitely sees 7 billion other people. He is not the great heavenbound multi-tasker, but the Great I Am who sees in secret and in full.

Grace will keep me rising early to seek His face and steady my heart on the cross. Grace will make a hard-kept habit into a relaxing rhythm.

Scratching early in my journal, I remember Brother Lawrence, practicing God's presence in a bustling monastery kitchen after rising for midnight prayers. He lived the schedule of a newborn's mother. God doesn't require quiet and tea. But my frail flesh does. He speaks everywhere if I train my ears to listen.

Timely encouragement: I'm not the only one seeking new habits in a revised routine.