There’s a fantasy that lives in the corners of every Christian woman’s mind: the golden morning. A hot cup of coffee, a silent house, sunlight filtering through a curtain, and you…Bible open, journal ready, a pen that actually works. You are uninterrupted, inspired, wholly available to the Lord.
Then there’s real life.
You overslept because the baby was up at 2:00 a.m.
Your oldest starts arguing with the math lesson before your eyes open.
The dog is sick.
Slack pings with a client “quick fix.”
You breathe, but you don’t have time to breathe deeply.
Mama, this is where God still meets you. Not in spite of the noise, but right inside it.
Devotion Isn’t a Vibe
For years, I believed I had to manufacture silence to be with God. That intimacy with Him required candles, linen pages, and an untouched hour. But that belief turned my relationship with Him into a failing project.
But God isn’t waiting for your life to quiet down to draw near. He comes to you mid-spill, mid-sentence, mid-tear. He came to Martha in her busyness. He spoke to Hagar in the wilderness. And He walks with you through your Target run, your conference call, your late-night laundry folding.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18 (NIV)
A Shift in Posture, Not Schedule
This season of your life…raising kids, building a business, holding a marriage together, stewarding a home; requires grace, not guilt. Here are a few ways I’ve learned to meet God without needing everything around me to hush:
- Breath Prayers: A simple “Lord, I trust You” while buckling car seats or clicking “send” can be a holy rhythm.
- Anchor Verses: Post one on your fridge, your mirror, your laptop. Let it catch your eye like a whisper.
- Worship in the Movement: Put on Holy Forever while you cook. Let worship rise where the noise lives.
Quiet time might look like a sentence, not a sermon. A breath, not a Bible plan. It counts. It’s sacred and special, just for you.
Fiction that Feels Like a Mirror: Wintering by Katherine May
May’s book reads like a permission slip for the woman who’s run out of margin. Her voice is tender, literary, and present. Wintering explores the beauty of spiritual dormancy, of pulling inward, of finding God in the slow and the undone. If your soul needs something poetic but raw, that honors both the ache and the longing; you’ll feel seen here.
