Little voices praising our Savior.
I wrote a somewhat vague Facebook post yesterday.
"I love my church family. Love. Love. Love."
This particular Sunday I was standing between my husband and one of my precious friends and with another precious friend behind me. We were singing worship songs. And the songs were proclaiming how much God cares for us and how amazing He is and that He is good.
~I had a bit of a rough mental morning. I love going to church. I love seeing my church family. I love hugging and chatting with dear souls. But I'm an introvert. And a thinker. And sometimes (read almost always) can get a bit overstimulated on Sunday mornings and I begin to become agitated. So when I am standing in the foyer of the church and someone (read teenager) throws a notebook across the foyer as people are coming into the sanctuary I may or may not use a stern voice and an evil eye. Yikes. Who am I?
So, I'm standing there worshiping God in song and I feel that heat behind my eyes and a bit of a twitch underneath my eyes. I recall that I am not wearing mascara so I decide to let the tears flow.
~I had a bit of a rough mental morning. I had been making plans to visit a friend from church who is in the hospital because she sometimes forgets how precious she is and harms herself.
The tears flow and they flow. Cue the Kleenex box. As my one friend rubs my back to show she cares and the other puts her hand on my shoulder.
~I had a bit of a rough mental morning. I needed to have a discussion with one of my church sisters about another situation which would need to wait although my thoughts were piling up one upon the other with my brain about ready to explode.
I started to think that during prayer time that I wanted to be prayed for. Normally, I am up front and pray with those who come up for prayer. But this day I wanted prayer for me. I needed prayer for me. And I knew that if this one particular senior church sister went up front that I was going to run to her for prayer.
~And she went forward and I rushed to her. I put my arms around her neck and sobbed. I didn't have to say a word. She prayed over me with words that only God could have given her. She knew what to pray. It was beautiful.
~And then two precious girls who had received my evil eye ended up walking past me... and I asked them for forgiveness.
~And I visited my friend in the hospital and we laughed and shared and prayed and made some plans.
~And that conversation with one of my church sisters ended up with me realizing that God has a much bigger plan for me that I don't have a clue about.
Sometimes people are surprised that we have attended the same church for almost 20 years. And I think "I love my church family. Love. Love. Love."
And they love me back!
Praying that you find a church family that you can call your own. I might be able to recommend one!