It’s 5:37. The sun hasn’t yet risen, but your baby has. Early. Didn’t the clock just read 11:56? You blinked and the chaos of yesterday rolled right into today.
It’s 10:43 and your mom called with the news. Doctor said results show growth, not decline, of the cancer. They’re deciding what to do next.
It’s 12:37 and he’s called on his lunch break for a quick check-in that became a continuation of yesterday’s altercation that you thought was resolved in your heart. How do love when life keeps happening around you? He has four minutes and you’re still wiping sticky fingerprints off the glass doors from breakfast. Never mind lunch.
It’s 3:34 and she’s finished with school and sprawled across your bed in tears. How do you hear her wrestle with God without being fearful that this wrestling will turn into a long walk in the other direction?
It’s 6:14 and dinner’s late. 7:30 couldn’t come soon enough. 8:15 and you’re exhausted but you still have laundry to run and meals to prep. 9:30 and whatever happened today?
On any given day, one of these minutes is mine — life barreling around me and my insides trying to process it all alongside my reach for God. How do I find Him, right here, is the question that beats like a drum underneath it all. That, alone, takes up time and space and energy. What does it even look like to invite another into that conversation in your head, with God?
What does it look like to hunger for God, in the midst of this mama-crazed life, and not just alone?
Pause, breathe, and watch. Maybe this one’s for you, today: