Of all Sundays to stay home with sick kids, this is the last one I would pick. I mean, it's the one Sunday of the year that I'm practically guaranteed a peaceful and orderly departure for church, having a whole extra hour to prepare and all. (That's one perk to having toddlers and infants: they don't know to sleep more so you're wake-up time is automatically improved, even without personal motivation.)

But here I am.

(Yup, it's true, Carina. I haven't been out of the house since going to Mom and Dad's for Family Dinner on Tuesday night. Scary, I know...)

Jackson's taking a nap and Bronwyn just finished the arduous and lengthy process of eating a small breakfast without the capability of breathing through her nose. (Gulp, wheeze, chew, gag, etc.) Daniel has begun the first week of a series on courtship for Sunday School. I wish I could hear him, because every time he prepares this stuff it only gets better.

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I had more written here about some other things altogether, but after re-reading just now, decided to erase it for fear that it may be misconstrued. That's the tricky thing about this weblog stuff: words on a page can be read a million different ways.

At any rate, I started to watch a movie earlier and then turned it off within 10 minutes. This may be an "extra" morning in my weekly planning, but
there is plenty to do. Besides, my body might not be present with this local expression of His Body, but my heart is still needing to spend a morning honoring Him. So this is my purpose today.

And you want to know what my worship thus far has been today? Holding sniffly, bleary-eyed children, washing a host of dishes left-over from last night, shining my sink and scrubbing my stove. The thing that never ceases to amaze me is that as I stood at my sink and looked at the full parking lot across the golf course, I knew that He treasures this worship as much as He loves the worship I get to offer other Sunday mornings.

We serve a really big God.
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