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My senior year of college I decided to live at home and save some moola on room and board. I had an 8:00 am class that fall semester, so with my commute time that meant I had to get up at 6:30 everyday. And everyday, when I shuffled into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee I would see my dad sitting at the table with his bible open before him; eyes following the words across the page, or shut in silent prayer.
For over 30 years my dad has been the lone early bird in a house full of night owls. I had always known that he got up long before the rest of us. I also knew that he usually prayed during that time, but I had never witnessed it before. And seeing him at it, day after day for an entire semester, left me with no doubt in my mind that it was those quiet mornings with the Lord, while the rest of the world was dark and asleep, that made him the man that he is.
The sleep deprivation of having an infant has not cured me of being a night owl. I still stay up way too late and I still hate the mornings. But I love the idea of getting up early to pray. And if there is one thing I want to get good at in my adulthood, it is doing just that.
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