I wasn’t planning on writing anything tonight, but after the Saturday preparations for our biggest day of the week, I could use a little help winding down…I hope you don’t mind hearing me blather on about the random things that are on my heart…
Gideon’s little red plaid button-up shirt is ironed and laying gingerly on top of his navy blue corduroy pants, pants that are wearing thin at the knees, proclaiming not so much that Gideon is in need of new clothes, but that Gideon is a busy boy with a happy life. I love the way little boy’s pants are always threadbare at the knees…
And sweet Rebekah’s red knit Christmas dress has been pulled back out of the closet so that she might match her big brother and show the church just how excited she is for her first big-girl Valentine’s Day party on Monday. Last year, she was just waking up to the wonders of the world; this year, she is actively taking part in all the fun and festivities, and seemed quite taken with the little party invitation her Grandmother sent to her in the mail. “Ma-muh-mer! (Grandmother!)” she said, everytime she held up her little pink card. “Pee-eee! (Pretty!)”
On our buffet between the children’s church clothes, there are Valentine cupcakes to take to church, a little stack of handmade Valentines for Gideon’s classmates and a well-stocked diaper bag, all ready, all waiting, to load up in our minivan with us and drive down the hill to meet with the people we plan on spending eternity with.
Every Saturday its the same…different clothes, different special items to take along with us, different diaper sizes as our children have grown…but always, the house lies silent on this night, waiting for the Lord’s Day. Is it the culmination of a week gone by, or the start of a new one? I’m not really sure…but all of our days seem to revolve around this one.
And I’m thankful that, for now, I say that in the best way. I have heard of so many pastor’s wives who feel that Sunday is the day they lose their husbands, that they are busy from sunup to sundown, taking care of the kids alone, coming home alone, putting the kids to bed alone…I have heard of pastor’s wives who hate Sundays.
But Sunday, for me, is the day when I melt into the congregation, not feeling so much like the lady who is married to the preacher, but one among many come to worship, to be fed, to hear the Words of Life. I have wrestled for a near lifetime spending daily time in the Word by myself – it is a constant struggle for me to live a life of steadfast devotion – but on Sunday, sweet Sunday, I sit and hear the Bible expounded on verse by verse and my soul comes to life. For that blessed hour, my fears, my concerns, my anxieties and my self-centered tendencies fade away and everything makes sense again…
Perhaps that is why the house seems electric in its quietude on Saturday night. Our hearts, though probably never prepared as they should be, can sense that the hour is coming when we will meet together to magnify the Lord. It happens every single week, but it carries with it a momentum and an importance that never diminish.
Oh magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together!