I treasure the early morning peace of the house before the chaos of children bursts into my day. With my cup of coffee, my Bible, my journal, and my prayer box, I quiet my soul and ease into the daylight.
The height of my spiritual battle takes place when those precious few moments of peace are encroached upon. And it seems that my little ones love to rush the daylight, even racing it into the new day. Before my last thoughts are written, before my last prayers are prayed, little feet and little voices pounce into my peace.
Sometimes I learn grudgingly. But I am learning, to embrace my interruptions—literally.
I scoop them up on my lap and pull out my prayers cards that have been written just for them. I pray not just for them, but over them—each child, by name, and out loud. I pray that they will be wise and listen to instruction. I pray that they will not lean on their own understanding but will allow God to lead them. I pray that my daughter will value virtue and seek to please the Lord with her life and her words, that she will open her mouth in wisdom and speak with kindness. I pray that my son will be temperate in all things and will grow in grace and knowledge of God.
And as I pour my prayer out to God with my hands resting on their little heads, I feel my own peace restored. This moment has been redeemed, a fleeting moment made eternal.