My mother-in-law used to set the oven timer for every 30 minutes, and when it would go off, she'd pray. She had 6 little kids. Incredibly good lookin' twins (the younger the most attractive, btw), a VERY difficult boy who wouldn't share his twizzlers, an extroverted jungle girl, a cute foot massager named Fleshy, and a fuzz lovin' baby boy with food allergies.
So she prayed every 30 minutes.
I got myself a timer. It's on my fridge, where most of the chaos takes place, but I can take it with me if I want. On a quiet day, I let it sit on my fridge and just partake of the stillness. But on a regular work day it's scheduled for every 50 minutes.
When I hear it's bell, I pray, whatever I'm doing, however mad or tired I am. I thank Him for my children; I ask for patience & humility; and invite Him again to be my companion in that moment. And other stuff.
Sometimes, instead of praying, I take a minute to tell a child something wonderful I've noticed about them, or just to reconfirm how much I love them. I can see a difference in their behavior and in their treatment towards one another when I do this; and definitely a difference in my own behavior and attitude. Tantrums seem more tolerable. Messes more managable. My job enjoyable.
These frequent petitions remodel my view, and sharpen my focus. A brief snap back to understanding who my children are, and what I am to them. They have become an acute reminder of where my mind should be. Frustration and exhaustion lift.
And I can see. Clearly. For a moment.
Then of course the distractions come. I wanna's and I don't wanna's get the attention. Fear sneaks some control. And I forget a little.
Until the bell rings again.