I sit, with my quiet and my coffee, raindrops spatter the gutters outside providing the perfect soundtrack for my slow morning. Ruby sleeps three rooms over, still unwilling to bond with me despite my best efforts. It’s Monday. Kids are back in school, and I push back the to-do’s on my calendar for this precious time of decompression. Much needed after such busyness of the past few weeks. Mindless distractions vie for my attention. Morning news programs, social media; endless talk with little substance. I pick it up and set it aside more than once.
How can my mind be stayed on you, Jesus? Do I trust in you? (Isaiah 26:3).
My prayers seem to hit a low ceiling. Please burst through. I have a long list, Father. I know you know it. I believe you see. Will you intercede on my behalf? Yes. (Romans 8:34).
My heart, overflowing with gratitude. My heart, heavy with concern. This struggle of emotion and truth. I know you are moving, God. Stirring things inside my heart. A holy unrest; spurring me onward.
You are faithful to teach me. In my moments of distraction, you speak through the tappings of a keyboard; through the scribbles of a journal. I open my eyes, surprised to find myself in your sanctuary.
Oh God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.