Embarrassing confession: sometimes I read my Bible…in the bathroom. Not while I’m going to the bathroom, mind you. But since the bathroom door locks, and since the noisy exhaust fan can drown out most of the children’s chatter, well, a porcelain stool is sometimes the best this mom can manage.
When the kids were younger, and even less likely to “give Mommy some quiet time,” I met God in that throne room quite regularly. Once, after a particularly kid-crazy afternoon, I locked myself in the bathroom, sat cross-legged on the linoleum floor, and opened my Bible.
Knock, knock went a little fist on the door. I ignored it.
“Doin’, Mommy?” came my toddler son’s voice.
“Mommy’s reading, honey. You go watch the show while Mommy reads.”
The little feet padded off and I read on, until two chubby fingers wiggled under the door.
“I pay you some music, Mommy!” And with that, a toy kuzoo appeared where the fingers had been, and my son, laying in the hall outside, began to blow. Loudly.
Isn’t that how most mommy getaways go? And yet, even though a young mom’s “quiet time” is infrequent and interrupted, it’s still important. Too important not to take. After all, “You cannot impart what you do not possess.” I can’t give away what I don’t have, which means I must stay in constant contact with the Source of life. I can’t impart faith to my children if I don’t have my own relationship with God. At church, I can’t teach what I haven’t learned. I can’t speak kind words to my husband unless I let God soften my heart through prayer and His word.
What can I offer, if I don’t spend time alone with my Savior? And so, I lock myself in the bathroom, and ignore my sweet children (and their kazoos) for just a bit, so that I can come into the transformative presence of God…in the bathroom.