Except for the weeks I spent at church camp as a teenager, I’ve never been a morning person. Morning has generally always been a time of day I’ve avoided – I’ll work all afternoon and late into the night, but get me up early and you’re dealing with a somewhat volatile grump. You can ask my mother, She’ll tell you some stories…

But this week something has changed. I think I’m starting to appreciate morning people, starting to understand why they love those morning hours before anyone else in the house is awake. I’m guessing it’s the quiet, the stillness.

This might be a fluke. I am, after all, on a middle school mission trip. Not exactly a “normal” week. But each day, though tired from the work we’ve done, my body has turned on at 5:30 in the morning. I’ve gotten up, gotten ready, made the coffee and had two full hours to read, muse, write and listen. To my surprise, there has been so much to hear in the quiet of the morning. Children and sponsors murmuring in their sleep, cars on the road, birds singing, the church building whispering its stories, thoughts and insights that often go unnoticed – all these sounds help me to find a stillness and calm that is usually so elusive.

Perhaps God really is in the quiet place…