I’m at my best when my day starts before the house wakes. Sitting in the rocking chair, coffee by my side, book in my hand, eyes closed to the world. Before dawn breaks, I sit and read. Then rock and listen. Then sit and read again.
Sitting still, listening to the world, I can barely hear God. He, or she, or it, or they, speak to my heart. But it seems my heart is only really good at listening in those darkest hours before the dawn. The hours when the house is quiet enough to let the rest of the world speak.
It is in those mornings that I remember, hoping never to forget again, that God Forever Tries. But I forget often. I forget when the busy-ness of the days overrun my thoughts. I forget when my friend gets sick. So sick to defy explanation. I forget when disasters strike and people rage. But then, eventually, something wakes me early. Early enough to beat the noise of the house. Early enough to settle me in my chair. Early enough to rock my way to remembering all of the ways God is here.
much love, Holly Forseth