In a year in which nearly everything has changed, He has not. Though He has called me to do more, learn more and be more than ever before, He has ALSO been my strength and wisdom through it all.
5:15 has become my joy and delight.
My solace.
Yep, I stumble out of bed. I immediately start the coffee pot. I am bleary-eyed and weary. If you read my journal you would laugh at my level of weary, but in the weary He meets me. In the quiet and desperate and weary, He meets me.
Of all the things I have ever done, THIS has brought me to my knees.
It is interesting really. In many ways it should not be the hardest and most helpless. I have waited on governments and finance and healing. But, THIS, this teaching of my son - causes me to feel most lacking.
I think, perhaps, it is because THIS is all on me. Governments, finance, healing - they all rest on many shoulders. BUT this, this home schooling of my resistant learner, that falls squarely on me.
All me.
And I do not have a clue what I am doing most days. I mean, I have a lesson plan, however I have no proof or experience that it will move him in the right direction. Just a God-given instinct.
So, daily Jesus and I have coffee. And we confer about Joshua and work and weariness and relationships and hopes and dreams and worries and fears. I hand it all over, and He gives me the grace and wisdom to stumble through another day.
5:15 am in my daily miracle.
The greatest blessing in this year of home schooling is in unrushed mornings. I spend as much time with Jesus as I need. Some days we drink a whole pot of coffee together. Many days I have time to exercise, too. But first Jesus. Always Jesus.
Each day as I watch the bus drive by, its lights blinking in the dark, I give thanks that my littlest ones are still asleep. Each day, Mataya wakes up and stumbles from her bed with her pink blanket clutched in her hand. She finds me, and instead of rushing her to get dressed and out the door, we sit in the rocking chair. For many long moments we snuggle. I pray for our day, and eventually she climbs down to get dressed. And every day, I give thanks because those first moments are pure and peaceful.
So today, as I begin another week - rather than weary (though the workload is stacked as high as the snowbanks and the extreme cold of winter refuses to abate), I am thankful.
These quiet, unrushed mornings are a beautiful, life-giving gift.
Thank You, Jesus.
