On My Prayer Time Being Interrupted Again

Me: How come you can sit here and drink your coffee and watch TV and the kids leave you alone, but if I go sit down to drink my coffee they gravitate toward me like I’m a magnet?
Justin: There’s still an invisible umbilical cord.
Me: 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

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Remember when I was pondering if I was allowed to enforce Mommy Quiet Coffee Prayer Time, with how young my children are?

I came to the conclusion that for me and these children, now, it’s not something I’m willing to enforce. Also, for more than one reason, I couldn’t even propose to myself that I get out of bed earlier in order to have personal quiet time. The reasons being:

1. The baby didn’t sleep through the night until recently, and still not consistently, and the 3-year-old occasionally asks for middle of the night snuggles, and I’m notorious for not being able to go back to sleep for long stretches after having been awoken by children, so if my internal clock and the sleeping children were syncing up at 6:30 or 7am, my willpower was also going to cooperate and let me get some freaking sleep.
2. The way our house is laid out, the only places I could go early in the morning, where turning on a light would for sure not wake up any precariously (because it’s almost wake up time) sleeping people, are the master bathroom or the laundry room, which are not very cozy spots to spend my alone time in. Now, I have been known to spend the first hour of my day alone in the bathroom because I naturally woke up wide awake, or I got the baby back to bed for the last time and the sun was already up, at 6, and I desired not to wake anyone else yet. I take my breviary and my phone in there, sit on the cushy kneeling mat the pediatrician gave us to make bath-giving more comfortable, and do my morning prayers and internet surfing in silence. (And/or shower, when I’m on a morning shower schedule. Currently I’m on a night shower schedule. Everything one does in Texas in August involves sweating, so there’s no point in showering in the morning only to immediately start sweating. If I shower at night, I at least get to enjoy all my after-kids’-bedtime awake time as well as the me-falling-asleep part of the night, not sweaty.)
3. For a routine to work best for me, I have to tell myself it’s a hard rule, and then [almost] never break it. If kids were sometimes getting up at weird times that somehow interfered with my planned quiet time—which would be pretty inevitable—I would likely resent them for it and also break my rule, feel like a failure, and not want to try again. I realize from a rational standpoint that’s overdramatic, but it’s just how my brain works.

Still, sometimes an opportunity presents itself for just-me quiet time, and I try to take it. This morning, for instance, I woke up around 6, and by 6:15 knew I wasn’t going back to sleep, so I stole away to the kitchen, turned on the smallest possible light, did morning prayer and had some cereal, and now I’m back to the bathroom working on this blog post. I anticipate some sleepy-eyed little ones wandering in here within 10 minutes. But for a smidge-bit, this is pretty nice.

On days the children come wandering in when I haven’t yet gotten out of bed, I often try to get some quiet time during their breakfast. I make sure everyone is set up with their second serving of whatever they’re eating, and I sneak away to a corner of my bedroom. I futilely close the door behind me. The door has a “child-proof” handle cover on it, but both my 5- and 3-year-old can open it anyway, and they don’t close it behind themselves, so the sound of them talking to me lures in the baby, and then all bets are off.

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I keep trying the during-their-breakfast thing, though, with varying degrees of success. Sometimes I barely get one psalm in. Sometimes I almost finish! Most of the time, I do finish between bits of conversation with the kids. I imagine God doesn’t mind. God made moms (like everyone else) in His own image and likeness. Other moms don’t seem to mind when our conversation is interrupted by our children. We address their needs, take a few seconds to remember where we were, and go back to talking. Surely God can graciously wait out the pauses to my prayer, as I interact with the children He entrusted to my care.

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I’ve gotten better, lately, about sprinkling in bits of mental prayer throughout my day. When my patience is tried by children or adults. When a friend texts me to ask for prayer backup for a specific intention. When my husband is being extra sweet with the kids and I’m just so thankful for my family and my life. Etc. I can block out what’s going on around me for 60 seconds to commune with God. I close my eyes and sometimes all I say is, “Jesus.” Recalling His name calls back to mind that Momming is not just my task today, but my Vocation. That in His name, everything that is making the world absolutely crazy in 2020, is overcome. It’s just for a minute, but it helps me refocus the moment.

I have a whole bunch of to-do’s on my list right now. We’re moving in 10 days. I’m working diligently on packing up everything I own, which requires both mental and physical exertion. Deciding what can be packed today, and what things I still need for the coming week. Deciding what things can be given away instead of moved yet again. Deciding what to put in which box and in what configuration, such that breakable things won’t get broken and each box is not too heavy. And the physical filling, taping, labeling, and stacking of the boxes. Plus helping my big girl with virtual kindergarten, and trying to see all my favorite people “one last time” in a somewhat pandemic-conscious way….all while still doing the normal everyday homemaking things. So, yeah, I need a mental break every once in a while, and quick intermittent prayers are working well for that.

I still prefer to begin the day with morning prayer and end with reading (currently this book), but that ideal doesn’t always materialize. Someone, somewhere—I heard this several years ago, but whether it was from a friend directly, read in a saint’s autobiography, or heard in a podcast or an organized talk at a conference, I have no recollection—told me that when she was praying, she got frequently distracted. And she said that she kept apologizing to Jesus for not being able to focus. And she said that at one point, she became aware that every time she got distracted was a new opportunity to choose Jesus again. If she got distracted 100 times in an hour, she had a chance to choose to turn her attention back to Him 100 times. She said she realized it was more important to “choose Him again,” every time, than to be able to “not get distracted.” Because sometimes it’s impossible to not get distracted. But it’s always within my power to choose Jesus again.

So, when my kids climb into my lap and try to turn the pages in my prayer book, ask me 42 questions, and show me their latest dance moves, I’m finding it’s okay to pause my prayers, give them some love, and then turn back to God when I can. I’m not perfect at it. I still get frustrated when interrupted. I still eventually blurt out (because they hardly leave space between their words for me to interject more peacefully) that I need five more minutes so go play! But I’m getting better at it. I’m also getting better at choosing prayer first and internet surfing/message checking after, on those rare mornings when I do get quiet alone time before anyone else wakes up. Small steps. I’m not a saint yet. But I hope to be someday.

When do you get prayer in? How do you handle interruptions? If your kids are grown, do you have any advice for me and those like me with needy little ones underfoot and on-top-of-lap??