Essential? For our family, yes. And who knows, perhaps yours will get hooked on it, too!
I am so passionate about today’s content, that I’ve saved it for this, our 300th post! If you asked me what my single, most-favorite item or topic is on our blog, or what I would save first if blogs could catch fire, my answer would be “Morning Watch.”
PSSST! If you’re reading this in your email, click the link to the view the whole post!
Whether specifically through “Morning Watch” or not, practicing silence, stillness, and reverence with children as you take in God’s creation together is, in my studied opinion, as formative and necessary as reading and math. I understand this is a wild and audacious statement. And statements, as we all know, often lack in their ability to compel. Let us move, then, to a far more compelling medium; let us move from statement to story.
The Unfolding of Wonder
Dedicated to my mom who let me traverse boredom long enough to stake a claim in wonder and contentment.
PS. I would be remiss if I did not also acknowledge the role my dad’s favorite talk shows played in this.
“Count cows,” Mom would say from the front seat of our giant, blue Ford van as we logged yet another 300-something miles to Grandpa’s. This was her usual response to complaints of backseat boredom. I’d sigh and look back out at the endless sea of gray-brown that spans from Santa Nella to Santa Clarita.
Everyone who has ever driven that five-hour stretch on I-5 knows the only colors to be found along it are the shiny reds and yellows of Wendy’s, In & Out, and Carl’s Jr. signs ─the thrilling punctuation marks of each twenty-or-so mile stretch. The only natural colors are the dust-beige of dead earth seasoned with splotches of black and white posted in feedlots, ankle-deep in their own filth. Mounted among the cows are hills of more filth held under white, plastic tarpings and weighted down with old tires ─giant black and white beasts made strangely in the image of the herds below. If only the smell of it all was as neutral as the color palette.
Just about the time no one could bear the sight of another cow in purgatory, we’d pop into Carl’s Jr. and eat one ground up, fried, robed in molten cheese, and crowned with a wreath of ketchup and mustard.
Carl’s Jr., that final resting place for cows and potatoes, is an air-conditioned, heavenly reward for the child who has spent four hours watching how manure is made. Drinking it down with a cold, bubbling soda was like drinking morning dew from the tree of life.
Before we hit the road again, we’d refill our waxy cups and I’d sip it one-third-a-straw-full at a time to make that last hour or two evaporate with the bubbles in my nose. It was pure bliss.
We repeated this road-trip ritual, among many others, more than a few times a year throughout my childhood. I then continued it on my own all through college, this time slogging the opposite direction, breathing hours of cow just to get a whiff of homemade stuffing and pumpkin pie.
Then, one day, sometime in my early twenties, I discovered an extraordinary thing. It suddenly dawned on me that I no longer experienced boredom, nor had I for some time ─not in class, not in line at the grocery store, not in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, not stuck in traffic. It’s not that I especially enjoyed these experiences, but they no longer drove me out of my skin. To this day, I am fairly content to sit staring hours on end at a wall with only my thoughts for company.
I’m not sure, but I think it was somewhere along the I-5 that the last of my boredom flew once and for all out the window into that feedlot-fragranced air, dissolved in the hover of heat over the asphalt, and settled on an inoculation of dust.
My theory for having lost boredom is this: perhaps each person is only allotted so much boredom for the duration of their lifetime and once it’s used up ─it’s gone forever.
In truth, I believe so many hours of my young life went to staring out a hot, vibrating window, imagining right through the splotches of black and white grazers, that a new world found me from behind; the lush, color-bursting world of a mind forced to tread water in a desert mirage or drown from not trying.
Once you discover this world, once you cross the endless valley of waste to get to it, you need never be bored or without scope again. No matter where you may find yourself, there can be color, adventure, oasis, and wonder if you just peer past the dust.
But kids don’t count cows anymore (not collectively anyway).
Kids aren’t made to wait all day for a late lunch and a soda to then savor it sip by sip that they might survive the drive through a soulless, cement city.
Kids aren’t expected to watch through a car window the sun’s journey over a wasteland of opportunity for the mind.
Kids aren’t left to merely wonder what color that bush was before it tumbled, or what farm used to drink its existence from that rusty, old pump.
No. Instead, the majority of kids in our country are snacked, screened, and stifled until they reach adulthood where they are released to repeat these rituals for themselves and pass them on to the next generation.
The masses continue on the happy trail and joyless road of being over-stimulated and under-satisfied.
Many never stumble upon the occasion to change their course, to walk through the dustbowl and see what paradise may lay beyond and what sort of person they might be for the wandering.
Come, sit with us.
If you are among the few who have chosen “the road less traveled” or desire to embark upon it, you are invited to try “Morning Watch” with us.
We aren’t a road-tripping family. So, we have had to seek other opportunities for focus-building boredom. In fact, we’ve taken the pursuit of boredom quite seriously and actually scheduled these periods of “nothing” and everything for our kids, gently directing these hours toward life-giving beauty. That is, if you can learn to sit still long enough to notice. We call it “Morning Watch.”
I first learned to “Morning Watch” at summer camp (read that story here). A couple of decades later, the kids and I began our own morning ritual of stillness and silence when they were very little, about five and two.
Our practice has grown with the kids and is now a cherished cornerstone in our family culture. What began as a mild discipline (“we’re in silent time, remember?”) has become a welcome respite that every member of the family craves as a hearty and wholesome meal. If you were to peek over the mountain at our “Morning Watch” time today, you would see seemingly very little for one whole wonderful hour (sometimes more). You’d see me move only from my Bible to a book to a hot cup of tea. You’d see “The Captain” and “Goldilocks” watching nature very intently, then drawing or painting, then listening to me read something fit for the scene. Often, you would see any one of us with our eyes closed in prayer or pleasure of feeling the sun against our skin, birdsong in our ear, and mountain air in our lungs.
But before we continue with so much of the what, let’s first look a little deeper at why.
Why “Morning Watch”?
Kids must learn to WATCH. And I don’t mean another screen.
Observation is a powerful skill that is rarely cultivated in our modern culture. Education experts such as Maria Montessori and Charlotte Mason described in detail for us what depth and scope comes of carefully-practiced observation and its thrilling effect on each and every facet of our lives.
But we need not the opinions of such authorities to convince us of all that is unshackled within the human mind if only we have ever had the blessing of experiencing such liberty in our own. If we have truly seen, we will teach our children to watch for what the wide world is ready to reveal to them.
For the young authoress, colorful characters abound like puppets to be studied within an ornate little theatre.
For the young botanist, leaves and barks and rocks and petals become a fascinating mosaic before him.
For the young mathematician, countless equations parade from every living thing under the sun, all mysteriously revolving within the unchanging fingerprint of God.
If a child is allowed to flit from thing to thing, however ─if she is permitted to watch one thing then another, moving from wonder to wonder with little wonder herself, she will never harness the power of focused observation.
Until you become a student of a solitary seashell and hear of her pilgrimage, you will never truly revere an ocean full of them.
Until you are the pupil of the pollen-packed bumblebee, drawing his lessons for you in yellow chalk, you will not gasp at the blooming miracle of a meadow.
Until you are made a scholar of the snowflake, you will look out at the white world of unfathomable complexity only as a floor to be sled upon.
Everything is at his little fingertips, ready for him to pick up. But see that he doesn’t merely drop it at once and move on. See that he sits with it, studies it, and warms in esteem for it. If he succeeds, he will never be the same.
Kids must learn to WAIT.
Learning that good things come to those who wait and that everything great takes time is a strong foundation for a rich and fulfilling life.
Waiting for the sap to run makes the birch bark syrup taste even sweeter.
Counting down to Christmas creates even more magic and merriment.
Practicing patience for the potatoes to sprout makes harvesting them as delicious as digging up buried treasure.
We, collectively speaking, aren’t doing kids any favors by not making them learn to wait. It’s ok for a kid to be bored in the car. It’s ok for her to have to wait at the doctor’s office with nothing to do but see what she can see. It’s ok for him to listen silently to the entire piece of classical music before discussing it. And yes, it’s ok for a kid to be a little hungry while they wait for dinner.
Kids must unravel WONDER.
We are all born with the capacity for wonder. But like a tomato plant, it needs to be planted in rich soil, given access to bright sun, watered deeply, tied to a trellis or pole, and even given the occasional, ruthless pruning. In other words, yes it needs time and space to grow, but it also needs a lot of intervention. Wonder must be cultivated.
Furthermore, wonder is not simply the third and final step in this process of building focus in the child. Neither is it merely the first or second step. Rather, wonder is both the means and the ends. Wonder is both the seed and the fruit. We should never for a single moment be without wonder because wonder is how we were made. To practice wonder is to celebrate who God has made us to be.
Are there other ways besides “Morning Watch” to cultivate the skills of watching, waiting, and wondering in our children? Of course there are. I just can’t imagine a more inviting one.
Don’t mind if I do. Let’s “Morning Watch!”
True contentment is only found at the feet of the Creator. Join us as we awaken with our kids to the new-every-morning mercies of repose, reverence, and resplendence.
STEP 1: Assemble your “Morning Watch Basket”
What to consider for your basket(s):
- A “Morning Watch Schedule” (check out ours below!)
- Blankets (to sit on or wrap up in)
- Bibles (we love The Jesus Storybook Bible for littles and The Action Bible for kids 9+)
- Nature Reference Books (we love the DK Smithsonian books for trees, flowers, animals, etc.)
- A current Read-Aloud Novel
- Nature Journals or Sketch Books
- Coloring or Watercolor Books
- Colored pencils and/or watercolors
- Water bottles, hot tea, hot cocoa, or other favorite beverage
- Binoculars
PRINTABLE RESOURCES for your “Morning Watch” time:
OUR WATCH GUIDE
This acronym poster makes getting started a cinch! Just download, print, and get to watchin’! Choose from several variations to best fit your family here: Morning Watch Guide
OUR “MORNING WATCH VERSE BOOKLET”
In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice; In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch. ~Psalm 5:3
This is the first of 24 watchful, morning-themed verses in this companion booklet for “Morning Watch” that will help you in teaching your kids to hide God’s word in their hearts.
Choose your favorite translation (NASB, NIV, KJV, or ESV) along with a sheet of color-bursting memory stickers, all ready to print from one file: Morning Watch Verse Booklet
OUR “CALENDAR OF FIRSTS”
Celebrate each new day and every season with this Charlotte Mason-inspired Calendar of Firsts Nature Journal. This customizable and open-ended journal is perfect for budding botanists, gardeners, and nature-lovers of all ages to document the delights and wonders all around!
OUR “RAIN OR SHINE WEATHER CALENDAR FOR LITTLE METEOROLOGISTS”
Teach your young child to watch the weather and keep a calendar with this super fun and interactive product, complete with printable weather stickers! Recommended for ages three to seven.
Get the calendar and stickers here: Rain or Shine ~An All-Weather Calendar for Little Meteorologists~
OUR “TREASURES & TEATIME” FAVORITE READ-ALOUDS
Our Book-It Lists:
STEP 2: Set up expectations for stillness and silence.
Being still and silent is crucial to the concept of “Morning Watch.” It is pretty hard to listen (to the voice/word of God, to your inner thoughts, to the sounds of nature) if there is extra noise. But what can we do if our kids do not adhere to the whole “quiet time” or “sustained silence” thing? The goal is for this to be a positive experience . . . we don’t want it to feel like a punishment or a time out! However, at the same time, we want to instill reverence in this morning ritual, so some amount of monitoring will be in order.
When there is noise, rather than adding on time or starting the clock over, I suggest we simply and calmly repeat: “We will enjoy 10 quiet minutes” (or however many minutes you have chosen) and then follow through by remaining in “Morning Watch” until the set number of minutes have been spent in complete silence. This may seem like basically the same principle as adding on minutes, but it’s done with a different focus and attitude. Rather than focusing on the error, this technique emphasizes the goal and reaching it in spite of possible (and inevitable) slip ups along the way.
*What if you live in the city!? I hear you, my friend . . . even over the roar of the traffic. The kids and I began our “Morning Watch” practice when we were still living in Miami, FL. I’m not going to tell you that our experience was as magnificent as it is here in mountainous Montana. However, the practice was still immensely valuable; God’s creation is amazing and resilient even along the city streets. Of course, anytime you can, I encourage you to take your kids to “Morning Watch” in a park or nature preserve. The effort is well worth the reward.
STEP 3: Watch, wait, and wonder, yourself!
Our entire day is different when we “Morning Watch” together. Not only that, our weeks and years are different too. In fact, we are different for the hours and years spent pausing in the presence of our Creator.
I cannot emphasize enough how precious this time has become for me. Don’t be surprised in the least if you benefit from this ritual as much or more than your kiddos! It is such a blessing to be still and silent alongside our children; to have a regular retreat from the noise and busyness of motherhood and have permission to sit uninterrupted with God.
Perhaps the best blessing of all in this practice is watching our children learn to watch, waiting as they learn to wait, and wondering as they discover wonder.
But you will have to wait and see for yourself, my friend. Just make sure you misplace your phone first.
Thank you for reading! I hope you and your children might also build a beautiful family tradition of “Morning Watch” together!
Love, ~Candace Arden~
