Lost My Focus

I have my best quiet times in the morning.  If I try to do it any other time during the day, it rarely happens.  So, if I get out of bed by 5:45, I have enough time to make my husband’s sandwich for his lunch, eat my breakfast, and spend some time in the Word until my daughter wakes up.  This is great, but recently my husband hasn’t had to get up as early, which means I haven’t been getting up as early, which means my quiet times have hardly begun before they’re interrupted with, “Mommy, can I get up now?”  Add to this, the trauma of my recent decision to join a writer’s group through my church.  What was I thinking?  I now have to have something to read in front of seven strangers by Sunday.  Ever since I went to the first informational meeting a week and a half ago, my mind has been completely wiped clean of any creative inspiration whatsoever.  I most often write out of what God speaks to me during my quiet times, but, as I’ve already mentioned, those times have been, well, quiet.  Gulp.  Panic. 

Why don’t You help me, Lord?  Why aren’t You speaking to me?  Here I am flailing, and I get nothing.  Maybe I’m not supposed to be a writer.  Obviously I don’t have what it takes; as soon as a deadline flashes, fear sets in. 

I turned to Psalm 5, feeling the cry of David in my own soul:

Listen to my words, O Lord, give heed to my sighing and groaning.  Hear the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to You do I pray.  In the morning You hear my voice, O Lord; in the morning I prepare [a prayer, a sacrifice] for You and watch and wait [for You to speak to my heart] (verses 1-3, Amplified).

Oh.  It seems I’ve been forgetting one vital piece of the puzzle.  I’ve been sighing and groaning and crying for the Lord to speak to me, but have I prepared myself for Him?  Have I sacrificed my sleep and my warm bed to make time to listen?  Have I set aside my own agenda of wanting something brilliant to share with my writing group to really hear what the Lord wants to speak to my heart?  I think not. 

Dear Father,

            Forgive me for coming to You selfishly, for desiring Your words in order to impress others.  Forgive me for worshipping the goddess of sleep more than You.  I want to make preparation now for my sacrifice in the morning.  When my alarm rings, help my feet to hit the floor.  Speak to my heart in the quiet cold of our home so that I might know You more.

Amen.