The house is quiet this morning, full with words and silent prayers. A row of bowed heads hang over open Bibles and lines of inspired letters, with only the sound of a crayon scratching across the preschooler’s coloring page. Thin Bible pages turn, pencils carefully carve verses into journals, eyebrows knitted in concentration. We are making Him part of us, writing out His Word.
This is our communal listening time. Quiet time is no longer an away time in a secluded prayer closet, or in dark early hours while heads slumber deep in pillows, but a together time, modeling, nurturing a direct intimate relationship with Him.
So together this morning, we sit in the quiet, reading Scripture. Listening. Feeding souls.
I look up at the clock. Has that much time passed?
“Okay,” I whisper, reluctant to break the reverie. “Let’s move to a hymn.”
Hope lifts her face out of her worn Bible, quietly moaning, “Ohhhh, but I don’t want to yet. I just want to stay reading right here. It’s so good!”
Yes, Hope….He is.
