Leslie Jordan & David Leonard, All Sons & Daughters
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There was a lull in the sanctuary the other morning as the worship pastor’s guitar faded; the piano’s tones softened on the keyboard. A quietness fell while we waited a few moments and listened.
From the back of the room a voice was lifted in confidence and confession–
“I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
yes, I will remember your wonders of old.
I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your wonders of old.”
Norm shouted his praise from Psalm 77 and we ‘amened’ the words on the other side.
It is not remarkable that there would be a moment of spontaneous sharing like that on a Sunday morning at our little Foursquare Church.
What is remarkable is that Norm is frail and bent over and confined to a wheelchair.
And without his oxygen tank towing forever behind him, he cannot breathe.
You would think he’d bemoan this fact each time he had a chance. That he’d recite a litany of ‘woe is me’s’ about his limited abilities to get around, his waning strength this last year, his reliance on the kindness of others to get him hither and yon.
But no, he shows up at church and our small group, he brings the Word and with all the breath he has in him, he belts it out.
Later on that day, I read these words:
There are countless hours in each day I never give a second thought to the fact that I can breathe, unassisted. I am upright, mobile, strong and healthy. I can shout and sing, laugh and yell. All manner of expressions are mine because of my Maker.
It is GOD’S breath in my lungs, whoooshed into me at birth, gracing me with strength and health these 60 plus years. I probably think about that fact a total of 30 seconds a week (or maybe never). In/out, in/out, sing, talk, laugh, shout, pray….how many ways can I use my voice? How many times can I lift it in song? Countless, countless number of times. Without giving it a second thought. This week I want to put on thankful, breathing praise in and out, and remember everything I have is a gift. Everything. ~~~~~~~~~~
What is something ‘every day-ish’ that you take for granted? Share in the Comments.
Last fall when the sky was cobalt blue and leaves were brilliant, flaming shades of amber and maroon (as they are wont to be here in the Pacific Northwest) I stole away for an overnight writing retreat. My goal was to cobble together a year’s worth of poetry that hadn’t seen the light of day…
“Only in those moments of vivid experience that made her come alive was she at home in her own country.” –Marianne in Green Dolphin Country, Elizabeth Goudge, Hodder & Stoughton, 1944 Friend T and I were chatting on Instagram the other day about my favorite author (see above). There’s no writer I can recall…
I wrote in this space a few weeks ago about my precious daughter and the complications she was having with her first pregnancy. After many hard weeks and doctor visits, specialists weighing in with good news and bad, Jesus saw fit to take the baby boy home. Thursday we have a service to remember…
It’s that time again–first Monday of the month–unedited, unscripted Sister Time for Soli Deo Gloria, whose tagline is “Inspiring women just to keep it real.” Here’s my 6 minutes’ worth of ‘real’, talking about what’s sitting in the pile of mail on my kitchen counter….precious words and precious music. Here’s the link in case…
redtwig dogwood, my yard, renton wa outside in this open sky gratitude falls and I hear: more bird sounds, echoing/answering amidst the branches, waking up to more light. windchimes slight in the breeze, their delicate sound a witness to the wind. I see: a dull palette of varying grays- the distant view so very much…
