My husband started—more accurately, fell into by the grace of God—a new job last spring. One of the bonuses I’ve discovered from this new and terrifying thing called self-employment is that he now sets his own hours—meaning he’s available in the mornings to help out with the a.m. shuffle, specifically driving our daughter to elementary school. No more 5:30 a.m. departures and kisses goodbye I have no recollection of! We never knew Morning Dad before now. We like having him here.
As the toddler (I have pledged to stop referring to her as the baby, now 18 months) has swapped up her sleep schedule on me again, this week I adopted a new morning routine in the half-hour I have between Dad and big sis’ departure for school and little sis starting to stir in her crib, her little noggin popping into view on the baby monitor screen:
I blow kisses and close and lock the door behind them, grab the book I’m reading (Simply Tuesday) and my Bible, fix up my coffee, and… climb back into bed. (Perhaps I shouldn’t be sharing this, as you now know my secret and it makes this stay-at-home-mom gig sounds so posh, no?) I read a chapter (usually through tears, because Emily Freeman and I are soul sisters and she just gets me), sip my coffee (still hot! Again, so posh this job *insert the laughing-so-hard-I’m-spurting-tears emoji*), and make notes. My house is silent but for my elderly cat’s random wails when she thinks I’ve vanished. I “psst psst” at her across the house and she curls up on the laundry
pile mountain at the foot of my bed (sigh).
I think and dream and pray in these few minutes. As I close my books and place the cap back on my pen, my soul feels quiet and ready, expectant for what the day holds instead of dragging toward it out of necessity. Here I am, God. Present in this moment, hopeful that I will be present in all of the moments You’ve given me today. Please use me today. Teach me what it looks like to be who You made me to be, here in this simple Friday morning.