There are numerous reasons why I love attending church. I seriously could go on and on about all the wonderful reasons why it’s awesome to be a part of a local church.
However, the reason I want to share with you today is not deeply profound or spiritual. It’s that I like to hold hands. Not with just anyone, mind you, but more specifically with my family.
I can still remember holding my mama’s hand in church. I could tell you where every blood vessel ran and exactly what her watch looked like when I was a child. She always wore so many bracelets and rings, that it was fun to turn/rotate them this way, or that way, to catch all sorts of light reflections, and watch them sparkle on the chair in front of us.
This past Sunday, our daughter was helping out in the nursery, and I found myself seated between my husband and my son. During one of the worship songs, I was holding my husband’s hand, and my son reached over to hold my hand.
I was in a holding-hands-sandwich, and I couldn’t have been happier about that fact! I mean, really, where else in the WORLD would my twelve-year-old son sit holding my hand for an extended period of time?!?!
Sitting in church, in a pew, in a holding-hand-sandwich, reflecting on God’s love for us, simply listening to the praise and worship song, I was able to check all my “life” at the door and just be open to receive whatever God had for me there, open to talk to God, giving Him the praise that He deserves.
While I held my son’s hand, I prayed for the girl that would one day be holding his hand. Those of you who know me well, know that I love marriage, and I want the kind of marriage that I have for my son, and for my daughter. So, I prayed for “her”, wherever she was at that moment. I prayed that their marriage would glorify God. I prayed that whatever work my son’s soft hand touched would bear fruit. I prayed that his hands would be open and willing to do what God has planned for him. I prayed that his hands would reflect good choices, especially in situations where they would be tempted to do otherwise. I also selfishly prayed that he would never tire of holding my hand.
Even though my daughter was serving in the nursery, I prayed over her. I prayed that she would never lose that willing, servant’s heart. I prayed that her heart would be guarded, protected against the “hurts” that can come with growing up. I prayed for the man that would one day hold her hand. That he would love her as Christ loves the church. I prayed for her life path to be paved by the Lord, and that she would follow it.
My daughter impacts more people than she realizes with her sweet heart and contagious smile. Just today, a lady sat in my office and told me that she overheard my also twelve-year-old daughter (they are twins) say to my husband that morning, “Daddy, I love you!“, it brought tears to this lady’s eyes as she recounted witnessing the interaction. She was so grateful that our children KNEW that we loved them. My daughter loves like none other. She must kiss and hug us three times each Sunday before heading to the youth house for Sunday School. I confess that there have been times that I’ve told her, “we’ve already hugged, go on now”. Ugh, I always instantly regret it as soon as those words come out. I know there will be a time when she’s moved on from this stage, and I will long for all those hugs and kisses!
I’m not sure why I’m sharing these specific thoughts with you, it’s just something that wouldn’t let up until I got fingers to the keyboard to share. So, if this has resonated with you in some way, I’d love to hear it. If only just to know that I’m not crazy.
Well, let’s be real here, I already know that I’m crazy, but I’d still like a little reassurance that I’m not THAT crazy!
So, while I hold the hands around me, I’ll be praying for the person I’m connected to. It just seems to be an awesome thing to connect physically, and then spiritually, by bringing the person with me before the throne of grace to lift them up to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.