When Quiet Time Isn’t Quiet

At 6:40 in the morning, I had all the ingredients for an ideal quiet time.

Bible.

Notebook.

Coffee.

And, most importantly, a quiet house.

It was the calm before the get everyone dressed, fed, packed, and out the door storm.

I planned to have a bit of quiet time with the Lord before the day began.

Then I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Each of my three children has a distinct stair pattern. I can identify who is awake without ever looking up.

These were Miller’s footsteps.

He appeared in construction-truck pajamas, his blond hair displaying a truly impressive case of bedhead.

My immediate thought was:

Well, this is not going to be what I planned.

There was a time, not too long ago, when a morning like this would have felt like evidence that I was failing spiritually.

The Closeness I Thought I Had Lost

Before having children, I had rhythms with God that I held closely.

I could sit in silence without listening for footsteps. I could linger in Scripture, finish a thought, and pray without someone asking for juice or climbing into my lap.

Then I became a mother.

Suddenly, the rhythms that had once felt so dependable became unpredictable. Even when I woke up early, there was no guarantee someone else would not wake up earlier.

I could not figure out how to make my old rhythms fit my new life. It was quite disorienting, in all honesty.

And when my time with God could no longer look the same, I began to fear that my relationship with Him could not be the same either.

Maybe you have felt that too.

You remember a season when connecting with God felt quieter, longer, and easier to protect. Now it feels inconsistent, distracted, and perpetually vulnerable to interruption.

You still love God.

You still want to be close to Him.

You simply cannot figure out how to recreate what you had before.

But different does not have to mean distant.

What the Rhythms Are For

Prayer, Scripture, silence, solitude, and other wonderful spiritual disciplines matter deeply.

Time with God still has to be contended for in a season with small children. It may happen before anyone wakes up. It may happen while the kids watch Bluey. It may be shorter, louder, and far less aesthetically pleasing than it was in another season.

Fight for it.

But these rhythms are not a scorecard proving how devoted we are.

They guard and direct our attention toward a relationship with Jesus. They help us remain open and available to His Spirit.

And His Spirit is the One who transforms us.

The goal is not simply to complete the rhythm.

The goal is to become like Jesus.

Fruit is evidence of an invisible work.

Eventually, what God has been doing beneath the surface begins to show up in how we respond to the people in front of us.

In our patience.

Our gentleness.

Our ability to notice.

Our willingness to set aside our plans long enough to love someone well.

Jesus was interruptible.

He noticed people others overlooked. He made room for those who disrupted the apparent plan. He gave His attention to the person in front of Him.

I once heard someone talk about practicing spiritual disciplines while raising young children. He said that because his natural tendency was to stay focused on the task, responding lovingly when his crying son interrupted his prayer time could sometimes be more formative than completing the discipline exactly as planned.

That idea stayed with me.

Not because caring for a child replaces prayer or Scripture.

But because our rhythms with God should eventually shape the way we respond when life refuses to follow the plan.

This Time, I Got It Right

I wish I could tell you that I always remember this.

I do not.

Miller’s early footsteps have been met with disappointment, annoyance, and short-tempered responses on plenty of mornings.

But this morning, by the grace of God, something different rose to the surface.

Instead of immediately packing lunches, making breakfast, and laying out clothes for the day, I invited him into the quiet time that was no longer going to be very quiet.

We went outside and sat together on our white front-porch swing.

I sit there with my children often, but with three small kids, I rarely get uninterrupted time with only one of them.

Miller looked thrilled to be outside with me first thing in the morning.

“Can we play I Spy?” he asked.

So we did.

For twenty minutes, we sat on the swing noticing colors and searching for objects. Every time I guessed correctly, he smiled and told me, “Good job, Mom.”

Nothing impressive happened.

I did not finish a Bible study.

I did not journal a profound revelation.

I did not even read Scripture that morning.

I played I Spy with my three-year-old.

And I was so aware of the sweetness of it.

This was an interruption I would not have chosen if I had been given two options. But instead of feeling like something important had been taken from me, my heart filled with joy.

It felt like a little glimpse of kingdom delight.

No productivity.

No audience.

Just my little boy and me, sitting on a porch swing and enjoying the world God made.

My quiet time had not happened the way I planned.

But the quiet work God had already been doing in me showed up in the way I received my son.

The rhythm did not disappear.

It bore fruit.

Different Does Not Mean Distant

At night, I try to practice a simple prayer of examen.

Where was God in my day?

Where did I miss Him?

Where was He inviting me into love, patience, gratitude, or attention?

Most days, I recognize those moments only after they have passed.

But that morning, I didn’t miss it.

I knew while Miller was sitting beside me that I had been given something precious.

The tenderness of those twenty minutes stayed with me throughout the day. I kept thanking God for the interruption, and that gratitude overflowed into gratitude for the whole life I had been entrusted with.

Your spiritual life is not on hold until your house becomes quiet.

God is present in the life you actually live.

Keep opening Scripture.

Keep praying.

Keep protecting small pockets of attention for God.

Keep returning when the rhythm falls apart.

Sometimes we do not need hours of additional time as much as we need to notice and receive what God is already doing in front of us.

Love the One Right Under Your Nose

We don’t want to become so committed to our preferred picture of meeting with God that we miss the person He may be asking us to love.

The next time your plan is interrupted, pause before rushing past it or resisting it.

Ask:

How might love form me here?

You may still need to set a boundary.

You may still need quiet.

You may simply need to make breakfast.

But sometimes the interruption is not keeping you from the work God wants to do in you.

Sometimes it is where the work is showing up.

Feeling far from God in a full season?

I put together a free 5-Day Back to Simplicity Devotional for the woman who longs to reconnect with God but feels overwhelmed by the noise, demands, and distractions of everyday life – aka me.

Each day is brief enough to meet you in a busy season, with Scripture, reflection, and a practical invitation you can carry into the life already in front of you.