I used to think I had to go somewhere quiet to hear God.
A prayer closet. A sunrise walk. A silent church.
But today, with suds on my hands and a half-scrubbed pan in the sink,
I sensed Him — right in the middle of the mess.
Not in thunder.
Not in lofty language.
Just a quiet awareness. A steady peace.
A soft, unmistakable: I'm here.
The house was loud. One son was humming in the background and the other was pacing and telling me about something fascinating he had just learned. Every window in the house was open to the sounds of early spring.
And still — there was peace.
It didn't come with fireworks. It came as stillness inside me, even while everything around me clanged. I've chased that stillness my whole life — looked for it in quiet rooms, in early mornings before the household woke, in formal prayers with my eyes closed tight. And here it was, arriving without an invitation, right where I least expected it.
Maybe this isn't despite the chaos.— Lisa
Maybe this is the holy place.
When Jesus walked the earth, He didn't stay on mountaintops. He didn't wait for people to quiet themselves and prepare and come to Him in some cleaned-up, composed state. He walked dusty roads. He ate at crowded tables. He stood in kitchens and courtyards and fishing boats.
He understands noise.
He understands work.
He understands tired mothers and full sinks.
And so today, I found Him again — not because I escaped the noise, but because I stopped trying so hard to hear and simply allowed myself to be present. In that moment I wasn't performing a spiritual discipline. I wasn't checking a box. I was just washing dishes. And He was just… there.
Maybe that's what communion really looks like — not a quiet ceremony with candles and closed eyes, but the moment you stop running from your life long enough to find God living right inside of it. Not escape — but presence. Not perfection — but awareness.
Even here. Especially here. Between dishes and dirt.
If there's anything I want you to walk away with today, it's this: you don't have to wait until you've cleared some space, quieted some noise, or gotten yourself together. He's already there, in the thing you're doing right now. You just have to notice.
With love and open hands,
Lisa
