My best mornings begin with a special time alone with God. When my children were small, desperation had me setting my alarm early enough to fortify my spirit before facing the breakfast chaos.
In the shelter of my bed (sitting up to keep awake) I’d enjoy a quiet time with the Lord. It was like a spiritual snuggle with my Divine Parent before I faced my own parenting role.
The Bible has so many images of the parental aspects of God’s heart. One particular morning, I was thinking about Him as “Father to the fatherless.”
I’d grown up in a loving home and my parents lived nearby. By this point I was in my mid-thirties (a few years ago now!) with a husband and children of my own. I had grown up.
But part of me often felt like an orphaned child. That morning I poured out my fears and loneliness to Him in prayer. Abba… Papa… help me to stay in the shelter of Your care. Grow me under Your watchful eye.
After a while, I felt in my heart that it was time to get up. Lord, I sense our time together is over now….
I meant it as clarification: was I really supposed to get up? I hadn’t opened my Bible or paused to listen for His leading. I’d done all the talking. Again.
A gentle reassurance interrupted me: Oh, no… we’ve just begun.
His message, inaudible but understood, resonated in my soul.
What followed was the mental equivalent of that little scoot a parent gives a toddler to send her out to play after a hug. Warmed by His love, I scooted.