It’s time for Five Minute Friday…it’s been a while, but fasten your seatbelts and away we go!

START

My alarm chimes again I know I can’t delay it any longer.  I.must.get.up.

I stumble to the kitchen and, half asleep, begin to pack the lunches.  Another night of wakefullness and too much thought.  I slam sandwiches together and try to remember who wants mustard and who doesn’t and who hates carrots and who needs dip for her tomatoes.  Don’t put cheese in allergy girl’s lunch.  (You wouldn’t think that would be hard to remember since she was diagnosed at birth, but yeah…not a morning person….) The thoughts intrude….

This isn’t the life I thought I’d live.  I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but this isn’t quite it.  I think I thought it would be more glamorous.

But most days after everyone hurries out the door, to the world of professional people, to the high school, hopping on the shiny yellow school bus with rosy,cold cheeks, I wonder…..

Does anyone see me?  Does anyone notice that I am here?  Probably they would notice if I were gone.  I think.  But do they notice what I do.

It’s easy to get lost in a trap of self-pity in the season of growing a family, chaos and self-sacrifice.  I must renew my mind.  Because I don’t HAVE to do these things.

I GET to do these things.

AND.  And I have a Heavenly Father who reminds me that from the dawn of time, before the dawn actually, He had a plan in place for my life.  A plan for me.

Wrap your brain around that.

So my daughters may not notice that I put their favorite cookies in their lunches today.  Or maybe they do.  They for sure notice when I put something in there they don’t like.  Why does it work that way?  But I believe they always notice how much I love them.

And me?  No worries.  I don’t have to fear.  Yes, it’s easier to remember that at some times versus others.  But He sees.  He notices everything I do with my heart turned towards Him.

Everything I GET to do.

And He turns it all into good.

STOP.

Prayer.  It’s a very important part of this spiritual journey we are on.  But it can be scary, it seems.

Do I pray correctly?  Do I pray often enough?  Do I pray at the right time of day?  Are my prayers long enough?  Is more better? Or less?

And I know I’m not alone in this.  I hear my sisters in Christ crying out all around me….feeling inadequate and guilty for not doing more.

I get so wrapped up on the “not good enoughs” and the “am I doing it rights”, with a healthy does of “I’m not worthy thrown” in there.  And I they distract me from praying.  If those are the thoughts running through my mind, I’m lost.  Because I get so busy thinking about them that I’m certainly not praying. Just focusing on my lack.

When I lose track of what the purpose of prayer is, God enters in and seeks to remind me.

In his new book, “before AMEN”, Max Lucado, makes this statement:

“Prayer is not a privilege for the pious, not the art of a chosen few.  Prayer is simply a heartfelt conversation between God and his child.  My friend, he wants to talk with you.”

Did you catch that?  Prayer isn’t something reserved for people who know how to do it “right.”  It’s simple.  And heartfelt.

Sweet sister, YOU know how to do it right.  It’s just a sharing of your heart with Almighty God, while knowing that he cares.  He sees you.  And he loves you.  Mess and all.

Seriously.  Mess and all.  Don’t wait until you get your act together to pray.  Don’t wait until you learn the right buzz words that you hear other people use.  Don’t wait until you can pray like your pastor.  Don’t wait until you don’t have any distractions. Don’t wait until you think you’re good enough.

Don’t wait.

For some of us, that means getting those kiddos on the bus and then curling up in our favorite chair to spend time with Him. For others, it means (ugh!!) getting up early.  Or turning off the tv/shutting down social media/putting away our knitting projects a bit earlier before we go to bed.  For still others, it’s stealing random quiet moments throughout the day in between arbitrating penetrating arguments over who gets the prize out of the cereal box and negotiating with naptime terrorists.  Or while we commute.  Or as we do laundry.  Or in a hospital waiting room.  Or in a quiet sanctuary.  Or when you can’t sleep.  Or so you can.

But do it.  Pray.  With many words if you have them.  With few if that’s what you’ve got.  Crying out Jesus name because there’s nothing left.  In silence as you wait.  Or because you’re cried out.  Just pray.  With whatever you’ve got.

Because He’s waiting.  Longing for your conversation.  Longing for you.

So pray.  Don’t wait.

Pray.