Remember those days before my kids came along when we could spend hours together without interruption? I could study your Word, write in my prayer journal, and dig deep into my faith, learning more and more about you and myself with each moment alone with you.
Remember when I could read books written by your servants that helped me understand even more? I could discuss them with my husband or my good friends over coffee, and we could share with one another what you had been teaching us.
Remember when I could be still and listen? When I could be still and know?
Things have changed now. With each blessed addition to our family my time has gotten stretched more and more. I look longingly at my neglected Bible and think, “Tomorrow, Jesus, tomorrow I’ll find the time.”
I tried to set my alarm an hour earlier to have peaceful quiet time with you before my children woke up. But the baby was up all night teething, the toddler had a nightmare, and when my alarm went off I didn’t hear it because I had fallen asleep on my daughter’s hard mattress again when she needed a cuddle.
I tried to stay up just a little later than normal so that it could be just me and you again. But after two minutes of prayer, I fell asleep in my chair.
I tried doing a Bible study the other day. When I got up to make lunch, I came back to see my five year old had highlighted the entire book of Esther.
Things aren’t the same now, Jesus. Things have changed.
But as I sit here in the dark, humming “Beautiful One” to my sleeping baby, I feel your love in the weight of his trusting body. I remember the proud smile on my daughter’s face when she looked up from her highlighting job and announced that she was learning about Jesus just like me. I remember the joy that I felt when I watched my oldest offer to pray for a friend that was hurting.
Things have changed, but you’re still the same.
I may not be able to read your Word uninterrupted, but I hear your voice whispering when I need patience. I may not be able to sit with friends and discuss our prayer concerns, but I see the answers to my prayers in the running bodies of my noisy children. I may no longer be able to be still and know, but our family often makes a joyful noise.
I know one day things will change again. My babies will grow and the quiet will come back. There will be fewer interruptions and spills, but also fewer giggles and squeals. I’ll trade the worries today for new worries tomorrow. The exhausted tears will disappear, but so will the belly laughs over silly knock-knock jokes.
So Jesus, thank you for today.
Thank you for showing me your faithfulness in the hugs of my children. Thank you for showing me your provision in the midst of the mess. Thank you for showing me your comfort and peace in the sleepless nights. Thank you for the noise made by healthy bodies and the abundance of joy filling this house.
Thank you for always showing up. Even when things change, thank you for always being the same.
A Tired Momma
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