Sweet hour of prayer...

It was one of those days.

I had just tuned in to live stream the IF:Prayer gathering, excited to pray with women all across the globe...and my computer died.

 

Had just gotten the charger plugged in and the live feed up again, when my sweet babe decided it would be a good time to "sing" at the top of her lungs while racing around the living room with my cell phone.

I got her settled quietly with a book and examined my phone only to realize that she had gooed it so thoroughly that the speaker now makes a crackling noise--compliments of those two top teeth coming in.

Again, I focused on quieting my heart to pray. We were praying through Jesus's High Priestly Prayer in John 17, when I saw her reaching for my mug of now cold coffee.

I wasn't fast enough.

My white slip covered chair next to the side table is stained.

I'm not happy.

I pull the mischievous baby away and grab paper towels to mop up the mess.

My Bible now has coffee stains on top of the red Kool-Aid stains from that kid tripping with his drink during my youth lesson last year.

I exasperatingly wipe the well-worn and pen-filled pages and turn around.

The baby has shredded the roll of paper towels.

Again, I am on my knees in front of my computer, trying to come before the Throne of Grace, all the while fending little fingers off the keys of my computer.

The speaker is talking about prayer and gratitude. Thanking God for His holiness amidst the trials of our lives.

Ellie cries and I pull her onto my lap, which allows her better access to the keys--she's clever that one.

After multiple closes and reopenings of the webpage by flailing baby hands, I'm ready to give up.

This "sweet hour of prayer" is not so sweet. In fact, it's downright frustrating.

Those days when I could spend hours at a time talking to the Father, fully present and pouring out my heart, are few and far between anymore. It's discouraging.

And in my frustration and exasperation, I am startled by the truth.

I look at my sweet baby.

See her arms reaching to be held. Her eyes begging to be seen. Her voice crying to be heard. Her little heart longing to be noticed by me--begging for Mama's attention.

I see myself in her.

I am her.

I so desire to be noticed and heard by my Father, that I flail and yell, crying for His ear and attention, that I completely miss what He wants to say.

I fill my time in prayer with my own agenda, my own words, that I ignore His implore to be still.

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.

Psalm 37:7

The mystic, sweet communion is not one-sided. It isn't just a time for me to lay my burdens and cares upon Him but it's also a time for me to hush and lay my heart open wide to receive His words and rest in Him.

I love the moments when my little one is quiet and simply resting in my arms. When I can hold her and shower love upon her with no frenzy or flailing about, no restlessness or crying. When the hurried heart and busy hands are still.

It is in those moments when she listens. When she can easily hear what I am saying--no distractions or interruptions.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:2

My prayer now, today, is that my mouth will be shut, my pride will be crushed, my heart will be open, and I will be still, that I might hear the Father. That my communion with Him will be just that--communion. Not just a one-sided conversation, but an intercourse of my giving praise, repentance, and  requests; and receiving His truth, healing, and strength.

 

In repentance and rest is your healing. In quietness and trust is your strength.

Isaiah 30:15