It’s one of those mornings that looks like 6 a.m. when it is 10. The clouds hang low, clinging to the top branches of the tallest trees and completely blanketing the mountains. Not the typical cobalt blue sky of a Colorado morning, but just perfect for today.
I padded out of bed, turned pleading eyes to my fourteen-year-old, Stephen, who was in my chair, and, thanks to his sweet spirit, was soon in that old blue recliner, curled underneath my favorite fleece blanket, with my devotional, Jesus Calling, in my lap. My son kindly moved his blanket and school book to a different chair, and it wasn’t long before his younger brother, Sam, wrapped in a blanket, settled onto the floor with a Bible, then onto the couch with his science book.
It’s one of those times I love homeschooling. We were all quiet, each in our own worlds, but together. I felt the pull to the kitchen to make breakfast, but needed more silence, more being still with God, so I was relieved when Stephen made himself some cinnamon toast, and Sam turned on the tea kettle. It wouldn’t be enough to fill the cavernous hulls and hollow legs of my burgeoning men, but it would buy me some more quiet.
Sam brought me tea and my own plate of cinnamon toast, and we stayed in our individual realities, content to share them by space. My solitude was interrupted only by the occasional comments from my youngest, “Weird, mom! I’m eating toast and reading about the digestive process while I’m doing it!”
Journaling, praying, reading, I let God’s Spirit tap on my heart, seeking to truly embrace the truths I need to face the challenges of our life right now. Toward the end of my quiet, I felt the Lord tell me just to rest–to snuggle under that blanket, lean my head back in the recliner, and believe I was in His Presence, in His arms. Safe and cared for. As I did a song from Blink descended upon my thoughts. “God will take care of you . . . “
Soon my husband returned from his early morning appointment, my older son came up the stairs, hungry and talkative. The phone began it’s ringing . . . and now the boys are enjoying, as the hobbits would say, a “second breakfast.” Even as I enter into the bustle of that, I’m strengthened by the peace of the moment, by the quiet togetherness the boys and I shared this morning in the Presence of our God.
