My best mornings begin with a special time alone with God. These days it’s once the kids are in school. When they were small, desperation had me setting my alarm early enough to fortify my spirit before getting into the breakfast chaos.
In the shelter of my bed (sitting up to keep awake) I’d enjoy a quiet time of prayer and Scripture. 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 musing on the description of Him as “Father to the fatherless” (Psalm 68:5)
I’d been raised by wonderful parents, who were still an integral part of my wellbeing. But I was in my mid-thirties, with a husband and children of my own. I had grown up.
Still, part of me often felt like an orphaned child, cowering alone. I ached for God to be that Father – and Mother – to me now.
I poured out my fears and loneliness to Him in prayer, longing to rest in His love – the same way I had rested in my parents’ love as a child. 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 – am I really supposed to get up? I’d neither read His Word nor listened for His leading. I’d done all the talking – again.
A gentle reassurance interrupted me: Oh, no… we’ve just begun.
Could I really have heard His message, inaudible but understood? It resonated in my soul, a wonderful, warm, loving promise.
What followed was the mental equivalent of that little scoot that a parent gives a toddler to send her out to play after a hug. With a smile for the future, I scooted.
© Janet Sketchley, 2011
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