Physical stillness does not belong to this season of my life. Solitude cannot be found. Not in the early morning hours when even a whisper rouses my light sleepers. Certainly not in the heat of day when the backdoor ushers happy souls to the yard..and back in...and back out. Not in the evening when Daddy arrives home amid squeals and stories. Then dishes and children need scrubbing...and the day is done.
This is the movement of life. Not chaos. Not movement to stay busy or for distraction, but movement nonetheless. And He knows. If my 6-year-old can pray while swinging from the bars of his bunkbed, can I not seek Him as I move through life, too?