The Golden Hour of Interruption

Written by: Torrie Sorge

I have a confession: I’m a creature of habit. I love structure and a solid routine. Change and spontaneity have always been a struggle. And while I’ve definitely grown to embrace a bit of impromptu fun as I’ve gotten older, I still have to remind myself that the bills will still get paid, the laundry will still get washed (jury is out if it will get folded), and the house will still get cleaned if I lean into the unexpected. 

And I don’t know about you, but summer always seems to be full of altered routines and interruptions.

Schedules shift. Calendars fill up. Kids are suddenly home from school.
Vacations require planning and packing. Camps need registration forms. Budgets get stretched.

The rhythms we've carefully established throughout the year are disrupted by a seemingly endless stream of unexpected demands.

And if you're anything like me, those interruptions can feel frustrating because they get in the way of our plans. Or at least that's what I thought until a few months ago when I stepped away from my full-time job.

I switched my focus to writing and speaking. After spending years balancing my own dreams alongside ministry, family responsibilities, and a demanding career, I was looking forward to this summer. In my mind, it was going to be the perfect season to prepare for my new career.

A season to polish my website, refine my speaking topics, write articles, pitch opportunities, and build systems.
To plan ahead.

I imagined long stretches of uninterrupted time where I could focus on becoming ready for whatever doors God might open in the months ahead.

I had a plan. Actually, I had several plans.
And then summer arrived.

First, our daughter graduated from high school.

Anyone who has walked through a graduation season knows it isn't a single event. It's an entire season of celebrations, ceremonies, parties, appointments, decisions, and emotions. So. Many. Emotions!

She's heading to college this fall, which means this summer has become filled with planning conversations, financial decisions, dorm room shopping, and countless moments of helping her prepare for the next chapter of her life.

And speaking of preparing for the next chapter…
Our son recently moved into his first home. He's getting married in August. So between helping with the house, preparing for the wedding, and navigating all the details that come with launching a new family, there has been no shortage of things demanding my attention.

Rooms to clean out. Boxes to move.
Lists to complete. Details to coordinate.
Decisions to make.

In other words, interruptions.

At first, I found myself frustrated. 

Every time I sat down to work on a project, something else seemed to need my attention. Every time I blocked out time to focus, another responsibility appeared.

And before long, I began asking myself a question that many of us ask when life doesn't cooperate with our plans: How am I supposed to get ready for what God wants me to do when I'm constantly being pulled in another direction?

Maybe you've asked a similar question:
How am I supposed to pursue the dream?
Build the business?
Write the book?
Serve the ministry?
Deepen my faith?
Take care of myself?
When life keeps interrupting me?

But as I sat with that question, I remembered that Jesus was constantly interrupted. In fact, many of the most significant moments of His ministry happened because He was willing to embrace interruptions. Again and again throughout the Gospels, we find Jesus heading one direction only to be stopped by someone else's need.

He would try to withdraw, only to find crowds waiting for Him. Like when Jesus wanted to withdraw to grieve the death of John the Baptist, only to be followed by the crowds asking Him to teach and heal them (Matthew 14:13 NIV).

He would travel to heal one person, and another person would interrupt the journey. Like when the woman with the issue of blood interrupted Him by touching the hem of His robe as He traveled through the crowd on His way to heal Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:21-43 NIV).

He would teach, and someone would speak up. Like when Martha confronted Him as her sister Mary sat listening at His feet (Luke 10:38-42).

Every interruption presented a choice. Jesus embraced the interruption. 

He didn't see people as distractions from His ministry. He saw them as His ministry. He knew interruptions would come, so he prepared to pause when they did.

Sure, the interruptions delayed His journey. From a human perspective, they were inconvenient amidst time-sensitive tasks.

Yet Jesus stopped. He saw. He listened. He ministered.

When His disciples wanted to send the crowds away, Jesus fed them.
When people followed Him into moments He had intended for rest, He welcomed them.
When His Father led Him the long way through Samaria, He went just to meet a single woman at a well.

At every turn, Jesus treated interruptions not as distractions, but as invitations.

Invitations to love. To serve; to heal.
Invitations to reveal the heart of God.

As I reflected on that, I realized God was inviting me into something special this summer.

My kids weren't an interruption, they were an invitation.
To be present. To make memories. And to savor a season that is quickly coming to an end.

Because in just a few short months, our family will look very different.

Our daughter will be starting a new life at college in another state. Our son will be beginning his life as a married man. And my husband and I will be stepping into a chapter as empty nesters.

For years, I've heard parents say, "It goes by so fast." And they were right.

The truth is, there will always be another article to write, proposal to submit, and opportunity to prepare for.

There will always be another project waiting on my desk.

But I will never get another summer exactly like this one. I'll never again have both of my kids under my roof in this season of life, standing at this unique intersection between who they've been and who they're becoming.

And suddenly, what I had been calling interruptions looked a lot more like gifts.

Gifts wrapped in moving boxes, wedding plans, graduation celebrations, dorm room shopping trips, and ordinary moments around the dinner table.
Gifts I could easily rush past while trying to get to the next thing. And I don't want to leave them sitting under the tree unopened.

I want to unwrap them. I want to experience the joy, make the memories, and soak up these golden hours I have left with my kids.

Because maybe that's what God is teaching me this summer: Not every interruption is something to overcome.

Sometimes it's an invitation to something deeper, a God-ordained moment that you don’t want to miss.