from smoking on a balcony in California, to praying on my knees in the living room. He is so good.

My alarm did not go off this morning, and so when I woke up and saw it was already 5:36 am I went into immediate panic. Not because my kids could miss their bus to school, but because I had missed my early rising prayer time.

Say what?

Yup. My early rising prayer time. How early? 4:45 am early. And guess what? It is not nearly early enough.

This chick? She needs all the praying she can get!

But let me backtrack a bit here, so that you better understand me, my mess, and my journey towards the hope of becoming a little less messy.

In my first two years of college, I slept in. I mean, I was a sleep in champ. Of course, I went to bed at 4am, so obviously, sleeping in made sense. Plus there was that headache...

My last two years of college, I morphed into an early bird. This was not because I wanted to get a head start on my studies, ( I studied musical theatre and then went "undeclared", so there was nothing for me to get a head start on, unless you count feeling like a complete failure something one needs a head start on) but rather, to ensure that I had enough time to run laps around the Charles river, and burn off whatever few calories I had planned to allow myself that day, because for a young woman alone in Boston before the sun rises, that is a real safe idea. But also, safety awareness aside, I did this because if I didn't run from the fear of having no idea who I was supposed to be, I might have to feel something. And I could not risk that.

After a move to L.A. and basing my self worth on how much I could live like the women on Melrose Place, the character Sydney, in particular, I was still an early riser. Only now, I traded in the Charles River run for my Studio City 5:30 am step class, that included "Sammy Brady" from Days of Our Lives, and which was followed by a cup of coffee with skim milk and sweet and low, and a cigarette on my apartment balcony. Ahhh, to be living that empty Hollywood dream!

The years after that are somewhat of a blur. Marriage, four kids, a bunch of moves, and a stay at home mom, meant that I had no choice but to be an early riser....to change a diaper, nurse a baby, wipe up vomit in the crib, pack up the house again, walk a wide awake baby around Washington Square Park, watch Elmo in Grouchland for the 400th time, stroll the empty streets of The Grove with a toddler and Starbucks. The good news in all of this, was that my choice to be a mom to others meant that I had no choice but to die to myself and my own immediate needs. The bad news in all of this? It gave me extra hours in my day to resent my husband for having breasts that refused to lactate, and a job that got him out of the house.

So I got on Facebook.

Because nothing says "ignore your loved ones and blessed life and look longingly at the lives of people you really don't care about" like Facebook does.

The kids were now all out at school, and I had all of this "me time".

So that is what I did. I did things for me.

Blogging, Facebook, and back to working out with hand weights and everything....I was back to an early morning routine.

I wrote about me.....I looked on Facebook for comments that spoke highly about me...and then I worked out so that I had a body that pleased me.

But this "me time", I quickly learned, was not as satisfying as I had hoped it would be.

No matter how early I got up and spent time focusing on me...I had never been more confused as to who the heck I even was!

After hearing Matthew Kelly speak, which was nothing short than the mighty hand of God swooping into my life and carrying me back into the fold, I decided to try out something he guaranteed. He said that if I went to Mass every single day for just a couple of weeks, my life would change.

And wow. Because I was desperate for something to change.

Turns out, Matthew wasn't just some cute guy with an adorable accent.

Turns out, he was right.

Daily mass at 9am, turned into daily mass at 9am followed by spiritual reading in the empty church for ten minutes....or.... half hour....or sometimes two hours. (I was once so caught up in my reading that I had not realized the casket that had been rolled next to me. I ended up staying for an entire funeral of a man I never knew. True story.)

The point?

Suddenly, the desire to stay in that silence grew deeper by day.

It was not a habit that happened over night, like Pokemon catching. It developed over time.

In just a few short months, daily Mass did not feel like enough.

And so morning prayer began.

Just 15 minutes earlier than usual.

Then 20 minutes earlier than usual.

Before I knew it, I was setting my alarm an hour earlier every morning.

A lot of women ask me about my prayer routine today, and I think it is so important to state from the start that this new habit of mine has been a long work in progress, and I do not believe I am anywhere near where I am supposed to be yet. I can always do more; and I hear God's calling to me almost all day, in every mundane task and in every trial. In every text out of the blue, in every song, in every fear and every promise. I hear Him. And He is asking me to stop running laps around Him, and to rest upon Him. You know, I used to listen to people talk about how they hear God...and I have to say, I was jealous! I was also confused...I mean, was it an actual voice? How does one actually hear God? And more importantly, why wasn't He talking to me!?

Oh, but He was.

In the late night parties at college, and the laps around the Charles River. In the work out studio, and on the balcony. In the diaper changes and the blogging conversations. Even on Facebook.

He was always there.

I was just too busy listening to myself to hear what He had to say.

I hear God now, because I take the time to listen to God.

And I am going to share my morning routine with you, in case you are someone who desires to hear Him, but has no idea where to begin.

I get up at 4:45 am, coffee already set and brewing!

My "prayer space" is already prepared the night before: books, prayer manuals, rosary beads, glasses (because I am suddenly blind as a bat), devotionals, journals, pens, highlighters, prayer intention book, and Bible. Everything is in a lovely distressed wooden box that I got at TJ Maxx (my other habit, just not as meaningful) and keep on the white couch in the living room.

I begin every single morning praying the Rosary. I do not always feel like it. I do it anyway. Take that, Satan. I use a beautiful small blue and white book, Scriptural Rosary, illustrated by Virginia Broderick. On my heavily distracted or bored days, which are many, I switch it up and use my Queen of Apostles Prayer Book- A Catholic Treasury, compiled and edited by Mary Mark Wickenhiser, FSP. Both books were gifts to me from a dear friend who guides me so lovingly to Jesus- it makes this prayer time even more special!

I pray with rosary beads from Keogler Studios and I am a big rosary bead snob. I will not...in fact, I can not, pray with any other beads. I look at plastic beads and shake my head. Honestly, rosary beads made by Keogler Studios are like holding armor in your hands, and if you do not have some of your own, you must go here right now and take care of that nonsense immediately.

After the Rosary, I wake kids up for school, grab more coffee, then sit back down with the Magnifcat and read the morning prayer and daily Mass readings. I am a big time notes taker, and never met a highlighter I didn't like. I mark up every book I ever hold, so if that is a problem for you, never lend me a book to read. It WILL come back with notes in the margins and phrases and words circled. It is how I roll, but more importantly, how I remember.

After breakfasts and packed lunches and when my last kid is on the bus, I sit back down. Now the fun begins...because this part of my prayer life changes up, depending on where I am at. If the Gospel really sparked something inside of me, I go to The Better Part, by John Bartunek, and look up the passage. If I am needing a Mother in a big way, I go to the many Marian prayers in one of my books. If I am feeling distracted and burdened, I grab my journal and pour my heart out that way. If I feel a fire and need to share something, I sit down and start writing. I go where God leads me, and sometimes, this means on my knees on the hard wood floor crying endless tears, or standing with my hands raised, praising God for His faithfulness. I use Him as my guide.

And sometimes?

Sometimes I feel absolutely nothing. Dry bones. Got nothing. Can not pray. Can not write. Nothing.

And this is okay too.

These are the moments I just sit, with my hands outstretched.

I offer Him the nothing that I have.

And He meets me there.

I can not tell if this all sounds like a lot or not enough, but I can assure you, that this is one early morning habit that sets me up for success; not success by the worlds definition, but success, because whatever the day has in store for me, I stand a better chance at living it out in the way that God has planned. And living according to His plan is always a success. The girl with the cigarette on the balcony in Studio City living life for herself backs me up on that.

Good habits, like bad habits, are addicting. My morning prayer has lead to a routine of afternoon prayer as well. Another pot of coffee is set, and before kids come home, I read the Bible and work on my Walking With Purpose lesson for the week. My nighttime prayer is still a work in progress....and bed time is no later than 9pm, because of my early morning date with Jesus.

I have come a long way. And although I know I have a long way to go, it is good to reflect on the past so that I can see the good work God has been doing all along; all those days I cried out to Him, angry for not being there, look a whole lot different to me now. And I do not know why I responded to His call; I do not know why I pressed in to His grace. I am just so thankful that I did. Because had I not, I probably would have been dressed like an angry vagina marching in the city streets, instead of clothed in His mercy, praying for peace.

God, you are so faithful.

That you would come to a selfish, lost, mess like me, and show me the way to a life of true abundance.

You are truly amazing.

Thank you for the gift of prayer.

Thank you for the desire to get my tired old self out of my warm bed, and downstairs into the dark and cold, to be with You.

This time is so precious. It is my favorite moment of the entire day.

Forgive me for the mornings I approach you despairing and doubtful.

Forgive me for the mornings I say bad words in my mind because I forgot to put water in the coffee maker, or because I left my reading glasses in another room.

I pray I always have the perseverance to be with You in this way.

It makes me a better mom, a better wife, a better daughter, a better ministry leader, and a better friend.

It protects me from the evil that is lurking, and so badly wants me to wander.

And Lord, you know how I wander.

Finally, I pray for everyone reading this...that they too develop a habit of prayer, and increase their time with You.

You are so good to me and I can not wait until tomorrow morning.

Amen.