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From the moment my feet hit the floor – and often before – the list of demands is before my eyes. I think I know what needs to be tackled first and am either eager to get to it or dreading it with every fiber of my being. (I’m not an in-between kind of girl.) It is easy to get so distracted by the list – or the kid with the missing sock or the clock screaming at me that I’m falling behind again – that I forget to sit with my Father first.

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