The Domestic Monastery

I have had a lot of writings come my way recently, in the form of books given to me, blogs that I have read, articles I have been directed to, about the spiritual desert-time of young motherhood. Initially, I didn't think that it was particularly relevant to me, but having read through them, I actually realise that I am right in the thick of a spiritual desert time, although I am very blessed to have 'top-ups' through my ladies group at church.

This article came my way this evening from Jess at Making Home, and this paragraph especially spoke to me:

'Hence, a mother raising children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative, is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while raising children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place, and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it's time for that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time. The rest of us experience the monastic bell each morning when our alarm clock rings and we get out of bed and ready ourselves for the day, not because we want to, but because it's time.'

The thought that struck me was 'time isn't her time, it is God's time'. And that, to me, makes a lot of sense and this desert time a lot easier to deal with :)