Sunday Mornings

She finds me in the back row

In the back corner

Hunched over a bit,

Head down,

Dabbing at my nose with a napkin

Taken from the coffee table to my right.

She puts her hand on my back

And kneels down beside me

And asks me what's wrong,

If she can pray for me.

I tell her I didn't know it was going to be so hard.

I don't know why I'm so emotional,

(Maybe I can blame it on hormones?)

It seems like such a simple thing,

But Sunday mornings in my family

Have always been kind of special.

I've grown up

And dug down roots

In the family God planted me in,

In the (relatively) small town Ohio soil,

And I don't much like change,

And I do all I can to avoid tension,

And the way things always have been

Is about the way I think things always ought to be.

From the Sunday after I was born

We've always had the same routine:

Get up,

Go to church,

Sit together,

Get lunch together.

Sunday mornings are family time,

Some of the only family time my crazy family gets,

And I don't cry over much,

But I must be pretty nostalgic,

And I must have a strong sense of family,

Because when I think about how much my family loves me

And how much I love them,

It never fails to bring tears to my eyes.

Now things are a little different on Sunday mornings.

My family goes to the church I grew up in

And I don't.

Why?

A lot of reasons.

I'm sick of a few things (things, not people),

I've found a lot of things that just aren't enough,

And I'm hungry for a whole lot more.

And I miss the people.

I miss the building.

I miss the style of worship.

But God's calling me somewhere else,

And He has been for a long time.

So I drive a little farther,

Stay a lot longer,

Try to match new names with new faces

And try to manage being shy while truly desiring to befriend people,

Wanting to invest myself while wanting to be cautious,

And the people love Jesus,

The prayer is from the heart,

The worship is straight to God,

And the sermon doesn't try to dull a two-edged sword.

I haven't felt so hungry for God,

So eager to learn,

So joyful to worship

In a long time.

But the service ends

And I look at my watch

And know that my family's probably already sitting at our favorite restaurant,

Talking,

Just being together.

And I'm not.

And I didn't think I'd get so emotional,

But I just need to sit down . . .

And maybe one of those napkins will help . . .

And maybe I need to stop thinking about this . . .

And maybe I need to think about this . . .

And, God, really,

What is this going to look like?

You're going to have to help me.

I can't do this on my own.

She finds me in the back row,

In the back corner,

Puts her hand on my back,

Listens long

And prays longer,

And that alone was enough

To bring calm and a deep peace,

But after the "Amen", a tight hug, and my immense gratitude,

She listens longer

And gives advice

And encourages.

This woman I just met a week ago

Seems to know me pretty well already,

And just encourages me to do what God's calling me to do,

Go to the church He's calling me to go to,

Wherever that may be . . .

And to tell my family how much I missed being with them,

That, even though I feel I "need to discover God for myself", she said,

I should tell them how much I missed our Sunday mornings.

Sorry, no reasons on my end today.

Busy with a lot this week,

Didn't get much sleep a couple nights.

Learning a lot, though,

And still hungering to know who God is.

(Also, no post next Sunday,

But I may see if I can slip one in before then.)


Counting 10,000 Reasons to worship Him: 

(Sylvia's already made it to - past - 10,000!  So amazing to think of who He is like this!)

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Counting in community: