It mattered tonight because it's been a particularly difficult couple of weeks. And therefore it's important that I get reasonable prayer-time in. So I told the menfolk to go watch TV or do something to stay out from under my feet, and I tackled a whole day's worth of dishes, all at once. While scrubbing the flatware, I found myself feeling as though I were crawling into God's lap and leaning up against His chest like a small and tired child. Not always, of course.
True lovers have their spats, their times of coolness and distance too, because that's human nature.
God may always want to be close to me, but I can't always feel close to God. Even with a counter full of dirty dishes and a sink full of the freshest, hottest suds, sometimes my Godtime seems full of a dusty, forlorn emptiness, an echoing ache. And I know that this isn't God's choosing, but my own state of affairs. I wish I could connect on command, but I can't. The one consolation is that I know that this too is normal.