Before the day begins I reach for a familiar Bible, the one with the homemade lavender bookmark tucked into the Old Testament. And I read a chapter, sometimes two. And often the words appear shuffled. I’m no scholar but I wish I knew what each verse meant, back then and in this very moment. I need answers to the questions. I need to know how it applies to my life when children talk back and friendships feel one-sided and it is all I can do to teach one more list of thirty spelling words.
And as this internal rant runs steady, my two-year old toddles out of his room, still sleepy-eyed. He climbs into my lap, his skin velvety soft. He rests his rumpled blonde hair into the nape of my neck and says his first words through a warm yawn.
I often don’t understand what he tries to express through baby pursed lips. His two-year old language is loud and piercing throughout the day, but often unrecognizable. But in that morning moment, before the sun ushers in the light, it’s more about spending time with him than understanding each and every syllable.
And as I pour a glass of milk and it streams into the confines of a colorful sippy cup, God reminds me that life isn’t about hearing the illusive voice and unlocking the unknown every single morning. Some sunrises aren’t about comprehending it all, they are simply about being present, showing up and surrendering to a day of beauty and possibilities.
My invitation never changes: Come to Me, you who are weary, and I will give you rest. Worship Me by resting peacefully in My Presence.
– Sarah Young, Jesus Calling