The kids are all in their rooms or quietly playing outside, the daily after-lunch quiet time attempting to get underway.  I sit at my desk, opening my prayer book, wanting connection and peace before I begin to write.  I get one sentence in.

O Lord, let my soul rise up to meet you

as the day rises to meet the sun.

“Mom, can you come see this spider?” Really?  Must I?  “It’s really cool, and I need to show you.”  “Buddy, it’s quiet time.”

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,

as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen

Glory.  What does it even mean?

“Fine, real quick.”

“Can you look up what kind of spider it is?”

As the day rises to meet the sun.  As I rise to teach my children, even in play.  Even when they are supposed to be quiet.

“It’s one of the baby spiders we found a couple of weeks ago.”  

It’s a teenage version of the yellow garden spider.

Come, let us sing to the Lord: let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.

“Mom, look at the video we made of a fashion show.”  “Ok, girls, I’ll watch it later. Go in your room, it is QUIET time!!”

How do I shout for joy in the midst of frustrations?  This introverted mother of 5, who can’t manage to have more than 5 minutes of silence at a time?

Surely God is in this place: we stand on holy ground.

“Mom, can you play a game with me?”  “After QUIET time!”

Lord, I love the house in which you dwell : and the place where your glory abides.

What does glory look like?  Does he dwell in this small house, where we live in constant noise?  Do I make room for glory to abide for my children?

Do not sweep me away with sinners : nor my life with those who thirst for blood,

whose hands are full of evil plots : and their right hand full of bribes.

“Mom, mom, can I have a granola bar?” “Yes, just GO AWAY!”

As for me, I will live with integrity : redeem me, O Lord, and have pity on me.

Oh redeem my failures, my impatience, my yelling…yes, pity, please.  Pity, mercy, and grace.  I cannot even claim integrity, as my prayer alternates with frustration.

My foot stands on level ground : in the full assembly I will bless the Lord.

This assembly is full indeed.  Can we bless the Lord together?

Surely God is in this place : we stand on holy ground.

“Mom, can I get up yet?  Can I go play?”   FINE! 

Now I hear laughter coming from the bedroom.  It’s not quiet play.   But it’s not fighting play, either.  The back door squeaks open again and again and again.  “Just going potty.”   “Is rest time over?”  “Can I have a popsicle?”

Henri Nouwen prayed,  Dear Lord, I will remain restless, tense and dissatisfied until I can be totally at peace in your house. There is no certainty that my life will be any easier in the years ahead, or that my heart will be any calmer. But there is the certainty that you are waiting for me and will welcome me home when I have persevered in my long journey to your house.”

How does he KNOW???

Lord, meet us wherever goods are held in common for love and justice, wherever bread is broken for worship and praise, and wherever life witnesses to repentance and reconciliation. Amen.

Yes, please, meet me here, where our lives overlap, and we are all common, and we have such love.  We break granola bars and popsicles in this house, and there are constant opportunities for repenting and forgiving.

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you : wherever he may send you;

may he guide you through the wilderness : protect you through the storm;

may he bring you home rejoicing : at the wonders he has shown you;

may he bring you home rejoicing : once again into our doors.

May peace go with me, with my children, and may we all rejoice at the wonders of spiders and dresses and granola and popsicles and noisy play, with outdoor wrestling and indoor jumping, and all the chaos and laughter and bliss 5 little image-bearers make on this glorious spring day.