Most mornings, I start my day the same way.
I wake up at 4:20 a.m. and begin the quiet rhythm of getting my child ready for school. Before anyone else wakes up, I take a few moments for myself—speaking declarations to align with who I am in the Word of God, who I am in Jesus Christ. As a mom, those early, quiet moments help ground me.
Then the day begins to unfold. I’m preparing breakfast and lunch, boiling water, and reaching for my favorite mug. After waking my child, I find myself standing quietly in the kitchen while the water heats.
There’s nothing particularly special about it. It’s just a small, ordinary moment before the day fully begins.
And yet, I’ve started to notice… this is where God often meets me.
Not in the rush.
Not in the noise.
But here—in the waiting.
I didn’t always value stillness. For a long time, I thought I needed to be doing something important to be close to God—reading more, praying longer, trying harder, becoming better.
But lately, I’m learning something different.
I’m learning that stillness isn’t empty—it’s full.
As I stand there with my cup of tea warming my hands, before the responsibilities of the day pull me in every direction, I sense a quiet invitation:
Be here.
Be with Me.
You don’t have to rush.
If I’m honest, that’s not always easy to accept.
My mind starts moving quickly—thinking about what needs to get done, what I didn’t finish yesterday, what I should be doing next. It’s so easy to leave the moment before I’ve even fully stepped into it.
But when I choose to stay—even for a minute longer—I begin to notice a shift.
My breathing slows.
My thoughts settle.
My heart softens.
Not because I’ve done anything impressive, but simply because I’ve made space.
I think sometimes we underestimate how much we need these small pauses. We think growth happens in big, dramatic moments. But more and more, I’m finding that God meets me in the quiet, ordinary spaces I used to overlook.
In a corner of the house.
In the car.
In the kitchen.
In the stillness.
Even in a simple cup of tea.
There’s something about tea—it’s hot. You can’t rush it. You can’t just gulp it down without burning yourself. You have to slow down. You have to sip. And in that, you’re invited to be still.
And maybe that’s the lesson.
This is where I’m learning to listen.
This is where I’m reminded that my worth isn’t found in how much I accomplish in a day.
This is where I remember that I’m not walking through life alone.
I don’t always get it right. Some mornings are rushed. Some moments slip by without a second thought. But even then, the invitation is still there—waiting for me to return.
And it’s there for you too.
Not in something complicated or far away, but in a small, quiet moment you might otherwise miss.
So tomorrow morning—or whenever you find a pause in your day—you don’t have to fill it right away.
You can simply be still.
You might be surprised by what you find there.
Holding On, Letting Go, and Enjoying the Ride
Tani
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10