Rejoicing in a Morning Slowed

This morning I felt unusually peaceful and patient and calm and unhurried. As I sat at the breakfast table with my Bible opened wide, I did not rush through my daily reading like usual. Instead, I thumbed through the concordance at the end, looking up my latest curiosities, seeking stories I couldn't remember clearly, pausing over all the noted places where Scriptures speak of things like "joy."

I pulled out my notebook and journalled, a practice I all too often abandon when time seizes up and captures my attention, pulling me away from what truly is most eternally urgent for that which is simply of the moment.

It was so unusual that I noticed it. Isn't that sad? I took note of the fact that today, I simply sat before the King and drank in his presence without regard to all the things calling to me, "Martha! Martha!"

I dearly welcomed this change of pace. And it got me wondering ... why was today any different? Is it that I no longer have a day's worth of work duties beckoning me to the computer and to emails and to phone calls?

Then I remembered this morning's prayer. As I watched my husband walk out the front door, lunch in hand, I could tell he was feeling rushed. I could tell his morning was not getting off to the best start. So as I closed the door behind him, I prayed for him, that the ticking of the clock and burden of responsibilities might be overwhelmed by God's peace "which transcends all understanding." (Philippians 4:7)

I prayed that for my husband, and yet I realized that God, in his goodness, shared that gift even with me, though I hadn't realized that I needed it, too. What a kind and generous God we serve.