My house is often a…well, shall we say?… clamoring place.

Two kiddos have a six AM wake-up call for play rehearsal.

For the fifth time this week.

The fifteen year old? He is rather serious-minded; his sister of nearly fourteen is lovely, but her autistic tendencies usually mean time is surplanted by stardust. πŸ™‚

Then, there’s the imaginative seven year old boy who needs a gentle reminder floss is not for making a faux Fu Manchu.

For about the hundredth time in the last few weeks. 😏

Add to that my brilliant, autistic seventeen year old boy-forgive me-young man- getting a taste of adult life with an internship that requires a lot of running around, tool-wielding, and remembering.

And helping him remember. Also helping to keep his more anxious tendencies at bay.

Several times a day.

Oh, and the handy husband juggling small business getting bigger, more dilapidated houses calling out to be restored.

Every day, all times of the day.

I play the part of the secretary/ tool hander/cleaner upper. πŸ˜‰

Oh, not to forget, there are also two dogs, one an increasingly stubborn old man, one fairly young but completely blind following sudden onset glaucoma.

Each with their dear little “what about me?” moments. πŸ™‚

And I have referred to the knocking door a few posts ago.

So…all that added together with my own obligations and physical struggles, in addition to making me just a wee bit tired 😴, makes for much scurrying and, at times, more than a little noise.

Hence, quiet time that is literally quiet is a rare commodity.

Sure, I could be a predawn sort, but, at the risk of making excuses I refer you to the above, which often means sleep I can actually get is precious.

So, instead, I find I burrow out what and where I can, hunting up scripture like a squirrel digging up the treasured acorns she’s been storing for winter.

I eagerly gulp down the bits I can afford for that moment before the ones He’s given me have a need of a hand, a reminder, a word of encouragement.

Again. πŸ™‚

I don’t often have the ability to steal away for lengthy prayer sessions, either, obviously, but I do quietly pray throughout my day.

Wash morning dishes, pray He washes away my bad attitudes.

Toss some clothes in the dryer, pray for the owners of said clothes.

Pass a hammer drill up a ladder to my husband, send up a plea for the residents that inhabit or will inhabit the house he’s working on.

Not to mention a thanks for keeping him safe up there! ☺️

But there’s not really a lot of traditional eyes closed and kneeling, frankly, unless I am in a position to (I do like to when I can! It’s a great reminder to remain humble.).

But, for all my hopes in what I have been able to cobble together in my crazy world, this area is something that honestly long had me feeling tremendously guilty as a Christian.

I always wanted to be one of those ladies with a prayer closet I could close and commune with my savior for an uninterrupted hour or so.

But, this is a full house at present- with narrow closets and a fix-it list still a mile long after six years (Handyman’s house is usually last. πŸ˜‰).

Still. Ah. I can visualize it.

Pipe in some worship music, devour books of the Bible at a time, memorize big chunks, pray emphatically for everybody and his brother, map out my spiritual game plan for the next however long I can.

Every morning at the
same time.

I mean, shouldn’t it be that way if I want to be truly growing in my faith?

And yet…

The further I get in this walk the more I see it’s not about a ritual, a time, a place.

Not scoffing at that.

Some of it, when approached with a sincerely seeking heart, is a beautiful thing.

And if you can do it, I say go for it.

Wholeheartedly.

But, for those of us that struggle a bit more to squeeze out that perfect quiet time, not from lack of desire, but due to circumstances, I say don’t give up!

For one thing, I know well the Lord gives us seasons.

Yours won’t necessarily look just like mine, nor mine yours.

Some may change rapidly.

Others seem like they’ll never change. πŸ™„

The key is surrendering to Him your particular season and letting Him do what He will with it.

And then, letting go of what you or everyone else says you should be doing.

Or, that is, how you should be doing it.

Prayers to you, friends. May your quiet times be blessed, whatever season you’re in.

9 thoughts on “Quiet Time When There is No Quiet Time

  1. I think your way of praying is wonderful – especially for this season. You are saturating your day and those around you with prayer, and that’s great.
    It’s nice to have a regular, uninterrupted, consistent prayer time, but not if one is going to then think (consciously or unconsciously) “Well, check that off the list, and on to the next activity.” As long as you have small children and demands on your life, you are never “finished” praying – and that’s a good thing! πŸ˜‰

    Liked by 1 person

  2. love how you incorporate prayer as you go about your day. Yes, w all have seasons where me might or might not be able to carve out plenty of quiet time with the Lord, but keeping that communication and prayer with God is important and not to give up.
    Enjoyed reading this.

    Liked by 1 person

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