I admit I can be pretty intense. I have a bent toward taking life rather seriously, and a husband and a son who can match me in this tendency. But then there’s the youngest in our family. He is twelve and still milking that baby thing. We have been trying to nudge him along in his character maturation, and we have had some roadblocks. Every Sunday morning, he rests on my shoulder or tugs at my arm throughout the worship service. It has been a difficult task for him to sit quietly for the one and a half hours without being redirected.
This week he managed to score a bagel and cream cheese before walking in to the service. He was so happy with his bagel that he couldn’t keep from swinging it around and talking to it in between bites. The problem was we were in the middle of worship. Singing and focused on God. When I told my youngest boy that this is the time to give attention to Jesus, he replied in his sincere and lighthearted way, “I am. I’m letting Him know I am so thankful for this bagel”. Had it been another kid, I would have thought he was being a smart alec, but not this kid. While hiding my giggles, I took in a deep breath. His childlike joy really is a part of worship, and I can learn from him. This happy-go-lucky, singing, dancing, sweet spirit is loosening me up. His name means, “trickling stream”, and that morning my heart was refreshed by my little man.