Do Our Mornings Matter?31In this season of life, I had three small children. My custom-
ary alarm clock was the impact of one of the aforementioned
small people launching themselves onto my bed, crawling up
to my face, and whisper- yelling, “Mommy! Are you awake?
Can I have Cheerios? Can I watch cartoons? Why are your
eyes closed? Mommy? Mommy!”
I consistently woke up playing defense, feeling out of sync,
and trying to catch up for the rest of the day. And it never
worked.
I was giving out of my own emptiness. And I had nothing.
I needed to see the hope in my days. What I saw before
me was a valley of diaper changes, a dusty college degree, and
not much hope. I needed to see more than a valley of bones.
I needed to stand with God and trust in Him to speak life to
my days. I needed to come alive, and I couldn’t do that alone.
No matter how long Ezekiel spoke to that valley, no mat-
ter what he said or how hard he tried, nothing would have
changed without the power of God.
All my striving and straining each day was hopeless if I
wasn’t standing with God, speaking His words, and believing
that what He saw in my valley was greater than what I saw.
Even if it was just waking up five minutes earlier, I wanted
to stand with God, overlooking my day and speaking His
truth into those dry and empty places.
I wanted to start my day with purpose. To remember why I
do what I do, and fill my tank so I could serve and love others
out of the overflow in me.
So I did the unthinkable. I set my alarm.
I spent some quiet time reading my Bible, planning my day,
and going for a run. Some days I skipped the run and did one