Ready, set, STOP: on being still with Jesus

I've been getting up early lately.

Life starts at the crack of dawn here, or just before. As soon as the first hint of daylight draws a tiny gray line above the mountain, my oldest child is awake. He's always been this way, and once he's up, the others follow. I have to get up pretty early to beat him.

Lately, though, my soul has craved quiet and stillness even more than my body has craved sleep, so I've been setting my alarm to be sure I can creep quietly into the kitchen for my coffee before my children are awake.

Once I get there, I intend to drink coffee, to sit with my Bible, to read and pray and soak in the silence.

Somehow, though, the green light on the dishwasher insists that I unload it. The few dishes on the counter that were set out to dry beckon me to put them away. The empty laundry basket reminds me that I should start a load of shirts so my husband will have a clean one for work tomorrow. Walking past the crock pot to the laundry room reminds me to get out the chicken and start cutting up the onions for the soup I'm making for dinner. Getting out the soup pot reminds me that I promised the kids baked oatmeal for breakfast.

And before I know it, that much-needed time in silent prayer with God has been eaten up by all my doing.

I've always been better at doing than being. Just sitting still is the hardest thing for me. Even when I'm supposed to be resting or taking a break, I always have something to do- some knitting project, or a book, or some random shoebox filled with odds and ends that need to be sorted or repaired.

Why can't I just sit still?

I think of Jesus, waiting in the dark kitchen for me, looking up as I come into the room, smiling, waiting for me to notice him there.

Am I so busy bustling around with my work that I forget to acknowledge him?

Could I not sit for five minutes with him at the table and just wait? Be still, be silent, be there, be present? Just Be?

I'm afraid to look at him now, fearful that I'll see a look of disappointment or frustration, worried that he's tired of sitting there, waiting on me.

Instead, though, I see joy. Acceptance. Love. Grace. Instead of chastising me, he just says three words:

"Peace. Be Still."

He's waiting there. He'll be there again tomorrow. He's always willing to wait for me, to give me another chance. He will sit there as long as it takes for me to stop being worried and distracted by so many things and just go sit down with him...and my coffee.

What is your best tip for making time for God in your daily life? Do you struggle with distractions and have trouble being still? How do you deal with that?