This morning, I woke up tired. Like tired tired. But so energized! My body said, “Stop going to be so late,” while my mind said, “That conversation with a student last night was absolutely invigorating!”
I got home around 10:40pm-ish and took another 40-ish minutes to wind down. I don’t even remember closing my eyes and when 5:30am rolled around, I contemplated life before obeying my body’s call to get to the bathroom. (You’ve been there, too, trying to convince your bladder that a few more minutes in bed won’t hurt. Hehehe)
Some moments later, I returned to bed but not to sleep. To write—it’s one of the ways I pray.
I may begin with a “Good Morning, Lord” or find myself acknowledging him a little later on the page after some urgent thoughts spill out through the ink. Either way, it’s a conversation. By writing, I listen, I wrestle, I pout, I jump for joy…I get the stuff out of my head that, left locked up, may make it difficult to carry on with the day. I confess. I surrender. I get prepped for whatever’s next which is usually greeting (or sometimes trying to ignore) two smiling faces on two little bodies, blankets in hand.
How do you pray? How do you give the Father time to enter your day in a way you’re fully conscious of? When do you pour out the chaos in your head so that there’s space for the Father’s peace and wisdom and ample reminders of his deep compassion toward you?
I’m praying for you today, that your prayer life will grow. Whether you’re on your knees, writing your thoughts, yelling toward the sky in an open field, or something else, I pray you’ll learn to love spending conversational time with the Father.
He sees us. He knows us. He loves us. And He wants to hear from us and talk with us. Let’s give him more time, okay?