Shells taken and received

The only thing missing from this moment is a sunroof in this darkened kitchen. I have the sliding door leading to the porch opened to just the screen, ushering in the hums from the cars moving down Lenape Trail . Next door someone's using a leaf blower, and I can hear a dog or two every so often. Warm weather insects offer their affection to the feathery fragrance of this promised Spring time. A scent no one could buy from a bottle. Red tulips sit outside on the table, lined with yellow on the edges as if the red said to the yellow, "Brighter! Make it brighter!!" A plane glides overhead, as if to watch over the perfect world below, to maintain it's soft peace. Birds sing their pleasant calls. Apparently my brother missed their alarms this morning, as he's still asleep. I felt guilty and got up a while ago. Even though IL time is an hour earlier, it doesn't mean time abides by the clock my body still lives on. 

Last night I went to my church's Good Friday service. Ahh it was so nice to be back in my church. It was a beautiful service. Different than years past, though probably also to do with the fact that Good Friday was usually lead by the church choir. I was quite content to abide by a more congregational worshipful service. I did really miss hearing my dad sing, "Jesus Paid the Highest Price" though. When he sings that song, I don't think anyone could remain dry-eyed.  

As I sat, I had Olivia, 8-years-old, on my right, and Allayah McGlinchey, 6-years-old, on my lap. There was a moment I kept from last night. Like when I swim in the ocean and gather a shell from the sea floor, clutch it in my hands and seek the surface, so I gathered a remnant from last night. Olivia clung to my arm as she sang clearly, and perfectly on pitch, "Oh the wonderful cross! Oh the wonderful cross! All who gather here, by grace draw near, to bless Your name..."  It made me tear up. And then Allayah on my lap. I saw her left hand uncurl slowly as she held it close to her waist. And then slowly she raised it higher, and higher, until she threw it in the air as high as her little arm could reach. I closed my eyes... and opened them. Further down my row was my little brother Nathan, 10-years-old, with his hands in the air as he sang to the Lord. And then his friend Lucas with his hands in the air as he sang with his family. All these precious little worshippers... it was making me cry... It quieted me. It humbled me, and caused me to bask in the splendor and wonder of being caught within a sanctuary of a worshipping people. A worshipping people that taught our children and young loved ones a way to worship without shame. 

When I witness children worshipping, it releases me to worship in a way different than when I acknowledge worshipping adults. It's like in that moment when all the ages of the earth join in a song, in an act of worship to our Saving Lord, we join with heaven. We sing the songs of heaven. We sing in the unity, the precious binding that envelopes each one of us in His sweet Salvation. The worship due to Him does not end or start with either end of the age spectrum. 

And I think God spoke something to me last night. Instead of finding and swimming towards that sea shell myself, this one was handed to me.

Our worship leader opened the alter, inviting anyone who wanted to to kneel, or come to the alter. It made me remember the countless times in youth group when Don would invite to wait upon the Lord. When we would seek Him, and wait for Him to come to us, to meet with us, to make us new in His presence. It made me realize I've become accustomed to just taking whatever He gives me on my own time. I don't wait for Him the way I used to. I don't come into His presence in my devotions and say, "I won't leave until You bless me, until You speak to me." Last night I sat to the side of the alter, and sang with the congregation, "I will exalt you, I will exalt you, I will exalt you, You are my God." and "We look to Yahweh, Yahweh, Our hope is Yahweh, Yahweh." It was such a powerful reminder to me. To physically place myself, on my knees, in a desperate place. Waiting for the Lord. 

I felt Him speak to my heart. Like He was telling me, "Wait for me Shaina Joy. I will come." 

So many times we settle for God to wait for us. We tell Him to wait to speak to us until we need Him to speak to us. Until we're ready to hear what He's going to say. Until we have enough hands for the shells He might give us. Until we feel we're ready to empty our hands of what we're holding on to now. We don't alter our schedules in case it takes longer. I remember how many times in youth group in high school we'd end up staying up past midnight, each of us slowly making our way up to our rooms as others may still be on the floor, knees bent, or on our backs praising, or praying. We waited. We could not bear to leave. As Don used to say, the Holy Spirit was so thick in the room you could "cut it with a knife." But it didn't always happen. And that was alright. But when it did happen, He came to us after we waited. 

And another awesome thing from last night.... I was able to take communion for the first time since I left Jersey in January. Behold.... the Gluten Free Table. There are a lot of people in my church who are gluten intolerant. And I could finally receive not only the Cup, but the Bread. 

Well, it's about time I go prepare myself for the day. I'm so excited to begin "training" with Bi today, and to reunite with Laura in the sunroom:) Home... such a blissful adventure.