With each of our seven children—Lily, Hope, Eden, and Caleb, who came to us through adoption, and years later Bo, Virginia, and Charlotte, whom I held in my womb—fear haunted me. Three teenagers, a child in the in-between years, a five-year-old, a toddler, and a babe—all gave opportunity for fear. Fear is ignited in more than one life stage.
How many times had I shut the door to her room behind me and unthinkingly given over to fear the one-minute walk to the kitchen? Dishes to do and phone calls to make and other children’s needs to meet, forgetting what I didn’t want to notice in the first place.
The unrecorded minutes for most of us are pregnant. We scrapbook our banner days—the weddings and births, first days of kindergarten and college—gliding over the significance of all that lies in between the annual family vacations.
One middle minute can hold fears and insecurities and mind wanderings. No wonder we long for a highlight reel, for those banner days. But in the middle minutes, we discover who we are and what we carry.
We don’t know what to do with the minutes in between, occupied by fear or boredom or aching—all the things we like to ignore and feel safe from when they are out of range.
We overlook them, and we dismiss them. We develop eyes for the next big thing as an escape. All the while we miss the tender invitation, right there, in those minutes.
Giving our lives to God wasn’t merely a broad-strokes yes for the shining times when His power is tangible.
He made us to fall in love during the middle minutes.
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Excerpted from Adore: A Simple Practice for Experiencing God in the Middle Minutes of Your Day by Sara Hagerty. Copyright 2020 by Sara Hagerty. Used by permission of Zondervan.
