I’m sitting at the chiropractor’s office and it’s the stillest I’ve been all day since that one minute of quiet wakefulness this morning when I made the regrettable decision of turning my alarm off.

Instead, I chose the always reliable yet not-quite-calm second alarm, aka “the children”. Today’s ring tone sounded like this, “Mama! We can’t find Danny!”. Yep, from horizontal to vertical and moving before they could say that again.

How’s your Monday coming along?

I’m choosing a few quiet minutes to remind myself how “all things work together” is more than a nice phrase or happy thought. It’s more like the teeth of the sandpaper. It’s the texture of God and how he is so completely other than. That’s what it means to be holy. He is holy—He’s not like us.

Our “off balance” day is His tilled up ground to place the seeds. Our “messed-up” plans is the rough wood and He comes along side to smooth us. We’re the fragrant herb that needs cut to be used. We need washed to be ready. He’s not like us.

But that’s the good news, and then all the rest begins to be good news too. It’s in the raw daily that we get to experience holy ground not the pretended perfect.

“Because You are holy, I need not fear my lack and be wrapped within myself, rather I need only revere You, and place my eyes on You—on who You have shown Yourself to be. Holy is Your name.
I offer You my best and I release. I choose to be still. I choose to trust You today, to be the Teacher and Protector of my children and of me.” —From Day 2 in Pray, Like a Woman in Labor 

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