My life right now boils down to a steady stream of moments (wonderful, joyful moments). I move from one child to another, meeting their needs. One child needs a hug, another needs an apple slice. One needs to report his bowel movement to me (so he thinks), and another needs to be rocked. The phone rings. The water is boiling. The husband has a question. I move from one moment to the next all day long until my head hits the pillow. And then I sleep for what honestly feels like a moment. Life is wonderfully full, and mighty busy.
Guess what gets lost in that busy shuffle? My time with the Lord. Every time I am pregnant I fall out of any and every good habit I may have previously established. And every time we add a child to our family, I have to essentially re-learn how to fit quiet times into my life. So, here we are again.
The thought of waking up even earlier (while night-time feedings still exist) is bone-shattering. Finding a chunk of time during the day is a struggle, and the baby is fussy in the evening and requires being held (I gladly cuddle my little monkey who seems to sense immediately when I pick up a book to read). I mention all these things not to complain - far from it... I love my existance - but rather to prove to you that my days are full. Can you relate?!
It occurred to me not too many days ago that 1) I need to lower my expectations for what qualifies as a quiet time, and 2) I need to think differently about my time. So rather than searching all day long for a fifteen-minute window of quiet (does such a thing exist?), I search for a "moment."
It's like this: the two big boys are playing quietly together, the 2yo is sitting on his bed recovering from a fit, and the baby is asleep for the time being. suddenly I realize Hey, I have a moment! Mind you, my sticky counters are stacked with dishes and I still did not get to the mailbox. Previously, I would have seen this "moment" to get either of these two things done. But knowing the moment is fleeting, I stop it all and move toward the couch. The mail can wait. The counters will get sticky again anyway.
A moment is just that - fleeting. Here and gone. So that's my expectation. I don't hope for long sessions of quiet, lest I dash my spirits, become frustrated and give up. Instead, I consider it a great success if I grab that moment with my Bible in my lap, even if I only read a sentence. Because, hey! That means I found my Bible. I sat. I breathed.
And then the moment is gone... success is declared.