The first day of the rest of my life.

Last night I turned in early. Today--Monday, September 27--is the first day of my new prayer blog, and I've determined to do it in the morning, after putting Isabel on the school bus. That means a 6:30 a.m. alarm and a prayer time starting around 7:15 a.m. In the book I'm reading for Next Generation Mentoring (A Place of Quiet Rest, by Nancy Leigh DeMoss), she strongly suggests prayer time first thing in the morning. She quotes several bible passages and Christian writers who attest to this. So, early to bed last night.

But Lily came in and woke me up in the middle of the night, and then Isabel climbed in, and I spent several hours awake, with a tiny knee here and a little elbow there, poking me all night. When the alarm went off this morning, the sound was un-natural, unholy, wrong.

So here I am, exhausted and unable to concentrate. I reread my BSF scripture passage for the week. To answer one of the BSF questions, I'm sent to Luke 10:20. I answer the question, and I'm done with the day's BSF homework. None of the scripture in the homework has grabbed me.

Now the Bible sits open on my lap. Dazed, fighting the desire to crawl back into bed, I wonder what passage to read next. Should I just find any passage? Look for psalm? Psalm 23? No, not feeling it. I look down at the open Bible, and there is Luke 11, which is titled "Instruction on Prayer."

I want so much for God to talk to me, for there not to be any coincidences. I want to believe He's in this, too. Maybe He's led me to Luke 11? And to the Lord's prayer, as if to say, "Just start out easy, with the Lord's Prayer, which you memorized when you were Isabel's age"? I read through the familiar words. I want to go to sleep.

You can read anything into anything. Is God in this with me? I don't know. I'm very tired. But I'll try again tomorrow.