It wasn’t a good way to start the day. Had I pulled myself out of the bed when I first woke up, I would have had a full hour to spend in quiet reflection with Jesus. Had I gotten up then, I would have begun my day with satisfaction, knowing that my day had gotten off on the right foot and that I had done something good before I did anything else at all. Had I gotten up then, I would have had the pleasure of knowing that whatever else happens today, I had at least one moment when the longings of my spirit were stronger than the desires of my lazy flesh.
But I didn’t get up then. Instead I stayed in the warmth of my bed, enjoying that strange haze between awake and asleep, between day and night, until I looked at the clock and had that moment of panic. I have to get up now, I realized, or there will be no time for quiet at all before my daughter’s Minnie Mouse alarm clock begins screaming through the baby monitor and her voice subsequently begins pleading for my attention.
So I dragged myself from the bed. Into the kitchen, where I clumsily knocked over everything in my path on my quest for caffeine. Into the family room, where I tripped over the cat in the shadows before I turned the light on. To the couch, where I tried to get comfortable and ignore the frantic flitting about of said cat as he protected our household from the untold dangers of a fuzzball on the carpet. The longer I was up, the more frustrated I became. One thing and then another thing and then yet another thing grabbed my attention, pulling me into daydreams and random thoughts that had nothing to do with the peaceful reflection my spirit craved.
“God, I need you this morning. I know I messed up. I know I shortchanged you and cut our time short and this isn’t going to be the most amazing quiet time ever…but I need you. My heart is racing and my spirit is so unsettled. I can’t begin my day this way. I can’t be like this today. I need you, Jesus. Please come to me now, in spite of my distractions…. Help me find you.”
When I managed to focus my mind for a second, my mind would run to Him, knowing instinctively that He was what I needed to fix this funk I could feel settling in.
Had I been bold enough, my prayer would have gone like this: “Lord, you’re going to have to put forth a little extra effort this morning because I’m doing the best I can and it’s not working…”
The clock all too soon said that my time was up, and with the announcement of 7:00 I accepted the fact that though I had tried, a meaningful encounter with Jesus was just not going to happen this morning. Oh, well, I thought. I’ll do the best I can today. I’ll get through this.
Back into the bedroom to get dressed for the day, and I noticed a strange pink glow coming from the window. The curtains and blinds were closed tightly, but whatever it was behind them shone brightly enough to capture my attention anyway. Over to the window….a peek through the blinds….a gasp and a smile.
Brightness. Color. A pink and blue cotton candy sky, with trees silhouetted black. A brilliant pink glow around everything – the kind that would make a little girl squeal with the thought that her dreams of a totally pink world had come true. And my heart…it knew. It knew that its unspoken cries had been heard and that God, in His mercy and love, had done something a little extra to get my attention this morning.
And my own heart has danced with this thought ever since: As much as I wanted to find God, His desire to be found was even greater. That’s just His heart, and I have to think that as I whispered a breathless “thank you” into the quiet morning, His heart danced a little bit, too.
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