A Tuesday

The sun is just starting to rise, and the birds provide a cheerful chorus outside.  Candles are glowing, and the house is quiet.  I read a chapter in Ecclesiastes and one in Acts today, delivered straight to my inbox by a website that makes it easy to read.  One passage on meaninglessness, and one on Paul in prison.  An interesting contrast.

I hear doors banging in the hall.  Lily has been up for nearly half an hour; I think she would get up at 6 if I let her.  I wonder if it will be easier when she gets a little older.  It's hard for a three-year old to turn on her light and play quietly first thing in the morning, though she does a pretty good job.  I tell her that Mama needs to spend time with God, and sometimes she will cheerfully curl up with books until her nightlight shifts from Mr. Moon to Mr. Sun at 7:00.  

I have never been an early riser, but I need this solitude.  I need time to reflect on Scripture and remember that I'm raising children who belong to the Lord.  It becomes almost a prayer: these are covenant children.  These are your children.  And it helps a great deal in those moments when my own patience has worn thin.  I simply don't have within me what it takes to raise these children.  They demand far more than I have--not just than what I have for them, but what I have period.  And indeed, their needs can only be fully met by a transcendent God of all comfort and peace and love.  So, it's a good think that they belong to him, and then to me.  I can shepherd them, but I am not their be-all and end-all.

And that's a good thing.

We have the same be-all and end-all, and that is enough.