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I listen, in the dark recesses of the morning.
There is quiet. Nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the clock. The pages of the Bible turning, the clink of my spoon against the side of my coffee cup, the nectar of 6 a.m.
I need and crave this time, and yet some days I punch the off button on my phone. I do what I don’t want to do, world’s oldest tale, regretting it the minute my eyes fully open and children are jumping on me on the bed.
I am six thousand times more nice when I wake up on my own.
My Bible study this particular morning was a punch to the gut, as most of this study of Malachi has been. I am the teacher but I am also the wrestler. Teaching others to put on their singlets and wrestle alongside.
So clear this morning that I need Thee EVERY HOUR, but the hour I need Thee most is 6 to 7 in the morning. The hour of peace, of conviction, of learning, of writing, of packing lunches or drinking coffee or trying to make a quick breakfast.
In the quiet, He envelops me, and together we face the day.