Not A Morning Person

God’s mercies are new every morning, but that doesn’t stop the struggles of the day from slapping us in the face as soon as the alarm clock rings. In fact, in my experience, the alarm clock doesn’t always get to ring before the demands of the day infringe upon my peace and rest.

Pupzilla doesn’t always wait for the chirp of the alarm to give her permission before she sticks her wet nose over the side of the bed to nudge me in the back of the arm. Mom! Mom! I gotta go potty!

And my coworker, who obviously doesn’t require as much sleep as I, routinely texts me in those last few pre-alarm minutes. I’m going to be late. I have to run to Walmart before I come in. Catch the switchboard for me ‘til 9?

And while I have a mouthful of Crest, my Dad—who’d had an entire pot of coffee before the sun was even up—calls. We haven’t talked in a couple of days. How many green peppers came out of the garden yesterday? How many heads of lettuce are you going to have?

And as I stare in the bathroom mirror, half-blind, dizzy, and hungover from the previous day’s beating, I realize that there is not enough caffeine on the entire earth to give me the energy required to face the things that are already demanding my attention. And I don’t even have my pants on yet!

But right then, I have a choice: “Am I going to run the day or let the day run me?” (That quote is from Jim Rohn.  My friend, Mary Rarick, is the one that brought it to my attention. Thanks, Mary!)

Obviously, I haven’t learned all of the keys to surviving the early-morning firestorm.

The real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up every morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind. (Lewis, 168-169)

I think Lewis has a great piece of advice for me here. I have to let the “larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.” I have a twenty-two minute drive to shut off the phone, turn down the music, and allow God to fill me with his peace, his power, and his presence to prepare me for the day.

Tomorrow, I resolve to “stand back” from my “fussings and frettings” and “come in out of the wind.” In other words, I think I’ll start my day by shutting my mouth and opening my ears to hear His voice.

This is part of a regular weekly discussion that my friend and co-facilitator Jason Stasyszen and I have with several of our blogger friends on Wednesdays. We’re discussing CS Lewis’ “Mere Christianity” and you’re welcome to stick around and comment whether you’ve read the book or not. Please be sure to stop by Jason’s to read his post and see what the rest of the crowd has to say about this week’s chapter. Enjoy!