Worship

Joining Five Minute Fridays with Lisa-Jo today. Thankful for an opportunity to capture a few thoughts in the midst of the crazy beauty of our new life (three biological boys plus two foster children).

Prompt: Worship

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There’s a beauty in the gross things. The little things. The things that make you sweat. The things that leak and smell and cry or whine, the things that won’t look you in the eye. The small smiles. The trusting hand that finally grabs hold. The time invested so they finally call you by name.

It’s worship. All of it.

Right here, right now, my worship is in these moments. It’s five little heads–some smaller than others–looking for my hands to come upon them in prayer. Waiting for the sticky kiss on foreheads–the kind that won’t rub off (ever, I promise). My diaper duties sing songs to my King and when I bathe that one child (for the second time that day because of a potty accident) my soapy hands and aching knees are as much of a hymn as I have ever mustered.

My feet are chanting as they walk back and forth down the halls of this house, opening doors and closing them, checking eyelids to make sure they’re closed.

My eyes–they’re leaking tears of praise and fear and adoration and anxiety and love for the Father who brought me to this temple.

And by the time I come to Sunday and the music surges through my veins, I find my mouth cannot even open for the rawness of it all.

The worship I’m doing is always right now. The hardest, most beautiful, messy poured-out love letter I’ve ever written.

 

The Heaviest, Most Delicate Things

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I wear these three initials around my neck.

You would think these small things would’ve broken off by now given the life of the one who wears them. And the hands that grab at them. And the wild journey behind them.

But they rest secure right in the center, moving with the heartbeat that reverberates through my chest. They weigh next to nothing in the grand scheme of things but they are the heaviest, most delicate things I own.

They are stamped onto a circle of gold. Deep and clear. Etched in for the sake of permanence.

This necklace is a tangible prayer of thanksgiving.

But it’s also a prayer of petition. It’s not complete.

As light as it is, it feels heavy with the absence of the missing ones.

There are more out there that need to be added.  Names unknown. Initials yet to be revealed.

How many, only God knows.

But they’ll join the ranks when the time is right.

For now, I wear the three. Gold, blazing in the Light, as we prepare for the rest to come home.