Fingerpainting

Well, I am half-way done with finals. Two down and two to go. I swear I can feel my mother telling me I should be studying.

While on the topic of moms, Ginny’ s mother is in town. Ginny has devised a grand scheme whereby the two of them are going to sew some shirts. I can foresee a debacle. Maybe I’ll try to get Ginny to model the shirts for a blog pic; I wouldn’t hold your breath. Ginny is to attention as Matt is to mowing.

We have a new design. Hope you like it. Thanks Paul.

We continue to be amazed by e-mails and responses. Although the craziness of life has not allowed us to respond, we intend to…thank you.

I set out today to do an impossible task. I feel my heart has turned a corner, and I long to describe the process; but, as is typical, when something deep happens inside, relaying to another only leaves me knowing I described a finger-painting of the Picasso.

For the 6 months following Eliot’s life, my walk with the Lord has been in a weird place. As I have mentioned before, everything is viewed through a new lens. This is good; everything once held dear is now up for debate. Nothing escapes mandatory scrutiny when all that was your life is tested and tossed and put to the fire.

Worship (and by worship I mean my definition- songs, instruments, etc. & not the Lord’s- everything I do) was a particularly difficult process for me. I knew, despite my circumstances, that God was worthy of worship, but no longer would I sing something simply because it was on the screen.

Thus, I quietly prayed through many songs that I did not feel that I could sing. This was not an exercise of anger or my feeble attempt to get back at God. I just desired that my song be one from my heart. And so I quietly weighed the words of each song and sang along when I could.

It seems to me that many songs have a message comprised of the following:

God is able.
And God is going to come through for you.

Well, maybe it’s the law school, but I felt that these songs needed an asterisk with a footnote or maybe one of the pastors talking really fast at the end- like on a used car commercial- detailing the song’s stipulations.

This week was different. I sang the songs that I had earlier sat mute through.
However, I still think the talking head at the end of each song just might have a future; and for sure a purpose.
But I sang.

I sang because:
I worship God for what He has already done.
I worship God, not out of a heart of understanding, but a heart of surrender.

And, for the first time I was able to praise a God who could have healed my son but did not.




I’ll continue this conversation next week because my mom wins- I’ve got to study.