A Mom’s Moment of Silence

It happens every Sunday in my church’s worship service: the music stops, the shuffling dies down, and the pastor announces, “Let’s take a moment of silence to prepare our hearts.” As others around the room take cleansing breaths to untwist the tensions they carried in that morning, my pulse quickens. I briefly close my eyes, but my only half-prayer is muttered to my toddler—please don’t scream. The rest of the seemingly endless moment is spent slipping my son animal crackers and trying ungracefully to catch water cups before they clatter to the floor. When the piano tinkles to bring us all back to reality, I feel a physical relief. 

The purpose of the moment of silence in our Sunday gatherings is to invite our hearts into worship before singing, hearing, or reflecting on the Word. But for me, the realities of motherhood usually press harder than the call to be still before the Lord. I feel a stressful—though self-imposed—burden to keep my children quiet and not to distract those around me. Often, these moments make me feel further from “ready” to worship the Lord. On my worst days, they lead to a bitterness towards the church structure. Do moms get to be in communion with God too?

A Quiet Mind in a Quiet Room

As a single person, there were certainly distractions competing for my attention. But as a new mom in particular, a relentless physicality pins down my thoughts during these sacred seconds. Early on, there were pregnant belly kicks and backaches, then a constant natural timer between breastfeeding sessions and an extreme lack of sleep. My body itself was screaming to remind me—being a mom is who you are. Later, there was a baby strapped to my chest as I bounced in the back of the room or a toddler gripping my legs, climbing on and off the chairs. Today, I notice moms of older children holding their hands or stroking their hair, never reposing from their maternal roles. Even when my child is tucked away in the church nursery, my moments of silence are still filled with wandering thoughts, nagging worries, and stressful to-dos. My maternal role and responsibilities seem to overpower all other identities and tasks, including my true and vital identity as a child of God. I’m called to sit at the Lord’s feet—to trust my Heavenly Father, to stay my mind on him[1]—but my duty to protect and guide my children can feel more pressing, even for this one moment.

As I walk through motherhood, I ache for a communion with God that comes from a quiet mind in a quiet room. Though our sin has separated us from God, Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection reconciled us. As Christians, we are redeemed—restored to fellowship with the Creator God. Why, then, can a squealing toddler make us feel so far from him? 

God created us to know him, but he also created us as physical beings, women, and mothers. He sent his Son in human form to understand and redeem our specific physical and emotional struggles. Truly, his grace covers the moments of chaos, frustration, embarrassment, and noise that are far more common in our lives than moments of silence.

Still, do mothers ever get a minute to quiet their hearts? 

Stewarding Our Silence

Have you heard the joke implying the only vacation moms get is the short walk to the front of the car after strapping their kids safely into car seats? While we all crave real, prolonged periods of rest, there is some truth here—those five seconds can provide a swift and powerful relief after hours of stimulation. 

As moms, we often find ourselves in moments that—while potentially noiseless—make us feel isolated, amplify our anxious thoughts, or waste precious time. But what if we could redefine those times as our own private moments of silence where God quiets our hearts and prepares us to hear from him? What if we could see them as anything but wasted?

Mama, when your colicky newborn finally falls asleep and the only sound remaining is white noise in a dark room, ask the Lord to speak into your exhaustion. Ask him to clear your mind rather than allowing it to fill with failures from the day.

When your sick toddler won’t settle anywhere but on your chest, forcing a stillness and an urgent dependence on God, ask the Lord to be near in the valley. Ask him to show up as your Father, bearing the burden of protecting your child’s fragile body, rather than allowing an echo chamber of fears.

As you read the same books, chop the same fruit, and change the same diapers day after day, ask the Lord to provide real rest in tedious routine. If you can’t quiet the room around you, let your prayers resound louder than the noise. Ask for God’s voice to cut clearly through the monotonous static.

When you pull your children away from a chaotic gathering to nurse them, calm them down, or get them to sleep, ask the Lord to show you purpose in your isolation. Let Psalm 131:2 remind you of one of the greatest gifts we get in motherhood: “But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother.” Recognize that you are often your child’s safest resting place. Then model your own need for stillness, attention, and care as a reliant child of God.

Mama, these “moments of silence” may not be in church before a sermon, but the Lord isn’t excluding you from his call to rest and commune with him. These times may not be on Sundays. They may not be a full sixty seconds at all. But if, as a mom, you find yourself in a moment that feels lonely, empty, or wasted, I pray you look for God to work. His words can fill silence, his presence can dissipate loneliness, and his faithfulness will daily change your heart.

[1] Isaiah 26:3