This morning I was going to wake up early. This morning I was going to sit down in my favorite chair and have a cup of coffee and read my bible, write in my journal and soak in the quiet while enjoying the warmth of the pellet stove. This morning did not go as planned. While I did wake up earlier than normal, it was not early enough. Sequoia beat me to my favorite chair and Mikaiah was close behind. Not giving up yet I got them breakfast and poured my coffee. Stirling woke up and I started over, dressing, feeding, cleaning up, etc. I helped Mikaiah get ready for school, gave her a kiss and waved goodbye as she got in my friend's car for her ride to school. I relented and handed Sequoia the ipad to watch a show and thought "Now I will have my quiet time, I will get it done!" And then Stirling came. He climbed on my lap, bouncing around and demanding my attention. I diligently ignored him and read my devotional. He grabbed my journal and pen and started writing in it and I almost scolded him, but did not . He elbowed me and pulled the sunglasses off my head (they serve more as a headband than sunglasses on days like today.) I felt frustrated and turned to put him down and then he looked at me with a huge smile on his face, silently begging me to let him stay. And I did. I put down my book and let my coffee grow cold. I pushed out of my mind all the things I "should" be doing. I took a selfie of us cuddling together and started to post it, and then put that down too. I was present. We giggled and laughed and I picked up a book to read to him. Then I picked up another. I didn't rush and I didn't look at the dishwasher, still waiting to be unloaded. I ignored the shoe under the coffee table and the blankets waiting to be put away. We enjoyed each other's company, and then, and only then, after a good twenty minutes or more Stirling climbed down and went to go play. Then I picked up my journal and contemplated the morning, and this is what I wrote:
Today this is what my quiet time looks like. It looks like sacrificing my own agenda to love on my son. It looks like scribbles and bent pages. It looks like patience. It looks like knees kicking me accidentally in the stomach and wet kisses on my cheek. It smells like oatmeal and sour milk. It sounds like happy chuckling and feels like memories being made. It looks like love. And today it's enough.
This morning did not go how I planned, it went way better. I didn't do what I thought I should do, but I did what I needed to do. I didn't have quiet time, but I felt the Lord's presence more clearly than during most of my quiet times. I was able to put myself and my own expectations out of the equation and the Lord met me there. My house is still not clean, and I don't care. This morning was a good morning.