Made To Worship

Worshipping with my children this morning, I fix breakfast while the music plays. It is hard to focus on bagels when the melodies course through our kitchen. “Hallelujah! Grace like rain pours down on me. Hallelujah! All my stains are washed away, they’re washed away!” My eyes close. I cannot keep my mind on the task at hand. My hands must raise, lifted in praise to my God. The task at hand is worship! My children sing with me, little voices floating through the kitchen. My eyes well with tears. Prayers lifted for their hearts to run when mercy calls, that they would bask in the grace that overflows into our lives. So much grace. So undeserving. There is no other response than praise.

Glimpses

Heard around our home:
While wrapped in Daddy’s arms, a soft sigh is followed by a six-year-old voice, “Daddy, I hope I never get too old for snuggling.”

Seen around our home:
The rosy glow of a sunrise filling our loft with dim light. I tiptoe out of my room hoping I won’t wake little ones only to find a blond head burrowed beneath blankets. “Mom, I’m watching the sun come up over the mountains.” Then a wonderful half hour of watching day arrive with my Bear.

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Felt around our home:
Puddles. Tears and my melting heart everywhere.

Radiating

I know, I know. An update on how radiation is going is long overdue. I think the dullness of the routine has kept me from even knowing what to write. There’s not a whole lot to share about going to the cancer center every day, lying on a table and letting them burn me from the inside out. I know all the staff by name, and we joke about weird things like Bob Ross, the afro-headed artist on PBS, with his “happy little green and happy little trees.” The techs all love my fun socks that I wear, and I have many of you to thank for that. I received so many pairs of socks as gifts, and I love them all!

Happy Easter!

I am so thankful for God’s faithfulness today. God has brought me through so much more than I could even imagine. And His mercies are new every morning. I thought about that this morning as I woke to an Easter sunrise. He is risen. He makes all things new. I have so much to celebrate in the life of my Savior. Only He has conquered death, and because of Him, so have I.

He is risen, my friends. He is risen indeed.
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