Outdoor Worship Service

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,

for his steadfast love endures forever.

—Psalm 136:1

In case you haven’t heard, a worship service is being held outdoors this morning.

That’s right. All churches in our area have cancelled “indoor” morning services due to the aftermath of Winter Storm Jonas. But a worship service is being held right outside your home.

Fueling Foul Up

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,

Because His compassions fail not.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.—Lamentations 3:22-23 

I do it all the time—every time I fill up. I notch the lever on the gas pump handle and trust it to stop automatically when the fuel reaches the top of the tank. Wednesday was no different. I positioned the nozzle, squeezed the trigger, secured the lever and let it do its thing.  Meanwhile I watched the numbers on the pump climb higher than the dollars in my wallet.  Click! I reached for the handle and then quickly withdrew my hand, as gasoline gushed out, splashing down the side of the Jeep and spilling onto the concrete. “Oh, no!” I groaned, fumbling to release the lever.  Wasting fuel in our conservation conscious culture is sinful. What a mess! What do I do? I scanned the pumping station. Not a paper towel in sight! Angrily I rummaged through my car and pulled out a rumpled napkin.  But I knew I had no one to blame but myself. I will never take my hand off the nozzle again! 

How many other things do I do automatically?  Has routine become my routine? 

Near in the New Year

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.”—Psalm 94:19

It’s one of my favorite Christmas gifts—a handmade (with the help of technology) 2013 “Addison” calendar. On the cover my 10 month-old granddaughter holds a 2013 sign, her big blue eyes wide with wonder.

Flipping each page of the calendar sporting a picture of Addie taken in the same month of 2012, I recall those precious moments—her debut in February; her first Easter in March; Mother’s Day when my whole family gathered for a photo on the church steps. And the summer months when I took care of Addie while her parents worked.

I remember cradling Addie in the crook of my arm, rocking in the old porch rocker, both of us lulled by the sounds of the morning, birds chirping, bullfrogs croaking, and a tractor chugging in the distance.  Addie’s curious blue eyes brightened, as she babbled in response.   I remember trail walks, Addie strapped snug in her stroller, mesmerized by bright green foliage and yellow butterflies, soothed by the rhythm of the carriage. I remember car rides that without fail calmed Addie to sleep. I came to know Addie’s cries, signaling food, sleep, or attention. I knew what would make her smile and gurgle and what would comfort her. Except for one day.