Several months ago I found myself hating mornings. When the alarm would go off I would roll over and hit the snooze until I just simply couldn’t manage to remain in bed any longer. Then I would get up and push through the morning routine at a pace that would have challenged a thoroughbred. I watched the clock constantly—always on the edge of panic as the minutes would tick by and I would realize one more thing had been left undone. Or I would discover that the pants I wanted to wear were in the laundry, or my brown shoes were MIA. By the time breakfast arrived I was off-kilter and already biased against the day.
This routine and attitude was not working. And the Spirit let me know. I was praying (let’s be honest it was more like whining). I asked for more sleep and more energy. I asked for God to change things for me. I asked him to do something. The answer I was given was not what I expected and certainly not what I wanted.
Get up earlier.
I thought surely I haven’t heard correctly. I already get up at 5:30 am. Get up earlier? How is that going to help me? How is this going to help my energy level and my lack of sleep? I just didn’t understand. But this was the answer I was given every time I prayed concerning this issue.
Reluctantly I obeyed. One night in February I set my alarm for 5:00 am. Just thirty extra minutes, but I had asked what to do and I had been given a very specific answer. Who was I to ask only to not follow through? Why bother to ask if I wasn’t going to implement what I heard?
My goal was to get up at 5:00 am and be ready a little before 6. Then I would spend thirty to forty minutes in quiet—journaling, reading and praying. Not necessarily in that order. Now, I understand that lots of people get up even earlier and spend even more time than I allotted. I understand this. But this was my journey and journeys can’t be compared; they can only be shared and discussed.
Obedience is a remarkable thing. It is an incredible place to abide. This short period of solitude has wrought a transformation in me. I have been reborn.
Sounds cheesy and religious, right? Perhaps, but I don’t care.
The content of The Chambered Nautilus has always been a result of my journaling. Just as my journaling has been sporadic lately so has the frequency of my posts. It is time to write and share again. The simple fact is that you can’t share if you haven’t been filled. You can’t be filled if you haven’t been still. I had lost the ability to be still. Routine, schedules and demands had wearied me to the point my spiritual nerves were numb.
They are no longer numb. Each one is thrumming.