That's my son...

They call it “special time."  My kids do, when they ask to do something alone with me.  

“Mom, can we have special time?”  They say.  

I’ll be honest, I don’t always feel like parting the sea of normal routine and productivity to create some miraculous quiet hour for two.  The mere thought of it can sometimes cause me to shudder when measured up with all that screams my name, claiming superior importance to my time.  

But isn’t that how all relationships are?  A weighing of what’s really important verses that obnoxious nagging to be productive and keep things looking together?  

Everyone else had had a turn but him.  He had waited without any complaint.  So early one morning I quickly prepped two egg and cheese wraps, a to-go mug of cocoa for him and a hot tea for me and whispered in his ear, “can we have special time?”  

A bike ride to a favorite tree where we sat on the side of the road and munched on our breakfasts and sipped our warm drinks.  

The air was cool but we didn’t care.  We talked about all that’s important to him and laughed about riding our bikes around the world someday.  

​It was quiet.  Only the farewell cry of the departing geese and a distant crow in the pasture could easily be heard.  The wind-swirled leaves skidding across our vacant road made for the best visual effects of an autumn day.
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It kept playing in my head as I watched him pedal ahead of me, “that’s my son...that’s my son...”.  Without the distraction of a busy morning I could see clearly who this boy was and relish in my heart his forever position as my son.  His belonging to me, a gift rekindled in a moment of time allotted for him alone.  

Maybe my relationship with God is quite similar when I choose to give him more than just a passing prayer while scrubbing sticky pans at the sink.  Though these “work-prayers” whispered while dutifully walking out life are pressing to a healthy relationship with the Father, how much more will purposed time in prayer with God strengthen our relationship?

Could it be that the idea of special time desired by my children is exactly what we all should be desiring of God each day?  I believe so.  

Three weeks ago I began a designated prayer time without my hands bubbly in the sink or pushing the vacuum across the rug.  I suppose you could call it “special time” with God.  

Kneeling in prayer with a list of requests from friends and family and my own aching soul, I begin each day.  Empty handed.  No phone, no coffee mug, only the words and a heart ready to be known and heard by the Father.  

“That’s my daughter...That's my daughter...”  

I hear it deep within, breathtaking and real I know my belonging once more, morning after morning my place in Him is set.   

The relationship deepened, the child seen, the requests made known and the Father glorified.  It will never be a waste or a weak attempt to set aside time to speak with God.  Do not be fooled, each bending of knee is a reset of where you belong and to whom.  

And take a bike ride with someone you love...remind them and yourself of their belonging to you.