A Tale of Three Churches

Maybe you’ve read Church for Sale and wondered where the idea of a “church for sale” came from.

Maybe you long to be part of a Church on Fire.

Or, as the Church on the Parkway series wraps up with the publication of Church on the Move this month, you’re reflecting on the church you call home or the church where you grew up. Just where does it fit on the spectrum of for sale/on fire/on the move?

It’s okay, too, if you’re just plain curious about where the idea for the series came from! Since the story is set during my own teen and young adult years, how much of it is true? Did I ever attend a “church for sale?”

First, the fun part! The idea for Church for Sale came when I thought I’d never, ever have another story idea. As I drove down a local highway near home a few years ago, I noticed that the small, countrified church building with white siding had a sign out front:

Church for Sale

Coming Soon

“How sad! I wonder what went wrong,” I said to myself. This had to be bad news. After all, I’d visited a church-turned-bookstore in Ohio and seen on TV more than one church building that had morphed into a restaurant, nightclub, or family home. It speaks volumes about my culturally-conditioned low expectations that I didn’t say, “Wow! That church must be booming. I wonder where their new building will be?”

But I now had a new storyline nibbling away at my brain. Church for Sale was underway. What went wrong…and what could go right?

As you visit Open Door Church, you’ll discover that a church can be “for sale” in more than one way. The building itself can be on the market for various reasons, of course. But the living, breathing (or barely breathing) organism of that local church body can also be for sale. As we watch modern churches, we make lots of value judgments about whether they’re “doing well” or not. Sometimes, attendance is the yardstick we use. How full is the parking lot? Often, success is equated with running lots of “cutting-edge” programs.

The leaders of the early Christian church knew the church could be “for sale” long before they had buildings. They knew it could be sold back to anybody who could entice its members with a trendy philosophy, a tweaked theology, or a familiar tradition. What the temptation was didn’t matter as much as the fact that someone fell for it. Just read the New Testament letters.

Churches were for sale back then, and they’re still for sale today. Be alert!

On a much lighter note, I loved revisiting another era while I wrote these stories. Oh, the days of avocado-color corded phones and harvest gold refrigerators, fuzzy sideburns, and long bangs! When walking down the street in Washington, DC, you could count an equal number of suits and bell bottoms. On Sunday at 11:00 a. m., the organist might blast out the Doxology, or a guitarist might strum Paul Stookey’s “Wedding Song” at your college roommate’s wedding.

Yes, we had a Bernie Rush or two, and at least one Lacy Seamands entertained us–and often derailed us.

But we also had our faithful Myrnas, Brians, Matts, Effies, and Julies. Praise the Lord–we saw a Dennis, John, or an Ardis catch fire from time to time!

It’s because of them–thanks to them–that the Church on the Parkway series was born.

Redeeming the Time

Today is the day I buckle down and resume a long-abandoned regular writing schedule.

Things haven’t gone quite the way I’d planned.

I woke up at 6:20 and declared it was too early to get up.

Pixie the cat has her own infallible internal clock. She worked on me again shortly after 7:00. Nibbling the edge of the lampshade by my bed usually does the trick. The combined crunch and wobble defy ignoring.

Not this time. Eventually, she retreated and I fell asleep again.

For a little while. I don’t remember how long.

Since today is Angie the dog’s twelfth birthday, I finally sat up, stretched, and wished her a happy (but low-key) birthday. Just how ironclad were yesterday’s promises of a long birthday walk in her favorite part of the neighborhood, anyway?

I checked on Penny, my sick little cat. Thank You, Lord, for her alert eyes, and not so much for the atypical messes she made in the living room. Angie the dog had contributed to the cleanup agenda, too. Break out broom and dustpan, squirter bottles of cleaner, mop and removable pads—then put them all back again. Keep Pixie out of the coat closet and hope Angie doesn’t think it’s time for a walk right now. You get the idea.

Check the thermometers on both sides of my fridge on the fritz. What does LL1 mean? Oh, well. Seems like it’s working better than yesterday.

Was it really around nine when I settled in for my breakfast and quiet time?

Of course, the use of time came up today in Ephesians 5:15-16. I will admit this has surfaced as a candidate for my “verse of the year” in the past. I’m the same gal who underlined proverbs about laziness in her Living Bible as a teen. Hmm…do we sense a theme here?

See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise,

Redeeming the time, because the days are evil. (KJV)

The King James phrase, “redeeming the time, because the days are evil” is memorable and poetic, issuing a clear challenge to the Christian. Hear the sound of battle between good and evil in the background. Who is going to win control of my time? Although “making the most of every opportunity” (NIV) and “making the best use of the time” (ESV) don’t call us to charge onto the battlefield, these translations also warn of “evil days.” This is war.

Does our use of time really matter that much to the Lord?

What would I have made of my day if I had gotten up at 6:20?

Most of us waste time more often than we’d like to admit. As Christians, we might agree that technically, it’s not ours to waste. Still, we have our unconscious categories like “quiet time,” “going to church,” “serving,” “errands,” “housework,” “walking the dog”…and “me time.” It’s hard to acknowledge that God is in charge of and entitled to all of it.

“We’re on a battleship, not a cruise ship.”

True. We do have a job to do.

We are also God’s beloved children. He helps us redeem our time, even when it’s misspent or when we start our day off on the wrong foot.

When the clock is ticking and my thoughts were too muddled to write something weighty and inspirational, my Father said, “Don’t worry. The words will come. Just write. Pick an easy idea from your list—something you know a lot about.”

Aha. Like wasting time. Okay, Lord, I can do that.

Endless Conversations

When my college roommate and I manage to arrange a date for lunch together, it’s never soon enough. Anticipation builds long before the day arrives. By the time I reach the designated restaurant and we’re finally face-to-face, words tumble out. Sometimes we struggle to take turns talking and listening, but we do it with joy.

What do we talk about? Everything! Our families. What God has been doing in our lives. Stress. Our aches and pains. Our joys. Church. Politics. The food. What’s eating up all our time. Reminiscences. Hopes. Prayer requests (if we haven’t figured them out by now).

We consult “don’t forget” lists and jot down things to remember to pray about as we talk.

Sometimes, just as we’re getting ready to wind down and pay the check, we veer off on a tangent, reluctant to leave anything out. Occasionally, we have to settle for “remind me to tell you about such and such”… or “I’m going to try and remember to send you that video…”.

It’s messy.

It’s wonderful.

We definitely don’t do it often enough.

Whatever happens, I know I’m loved and that she’ll remember to pray for me, informed by that messy encounter known as fellowship.

I worry less after leaving some of my burdens with this dear friend.

No matter if she forgets half of what I’ve said. The Holy Spirit the third party at our table and heard the prayer that was our messy conversation. That same Spirit will prompt my friend to pray for me when I need it. And nudge me on her behalf, as well.

It’s messy.

It’s wonderful.

Messy and wonderful like my time with Jesus can be.

When I’m with the Lord, a jumble of words can tumble out, and I don’t have to worry about His reaction.

I can talk about anything with Jesus. My family and friends. How I feel about His work in my life. My worries. About getting old. What I’m excited about. Church stuff. Politics. My worries, again! Strength and wisdom to do what I need to do. The memory prompted by a smell, a sight, or a song. Hopes. All punctuated with occasional “I love You’s.”

It’s wonderful.

And no, it’s not Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.

It’s messy.

Even so, I know He loves to hear my voice, since He’s called me His friend.

I want to cultivate more messy conversations with the Lord.

Yes, I need to work on listening as much as I talk.

I’ll keep talking as I learn to listen.

A Teacher’s Journey: Meet Cassie Franklin

The traditional “Back to School” date is the Tuesday after Labor Day. Although school has already started here in Northern Virginia, my teacher DNA is programmed for tomorrow! Accordingly, it’s time to honor one of my favorite teachers, Cassie Franklin of The Substitute with a re-post. If you haven’t read The Substitute, this is a great time to check it out!

Remember that old saw, “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach”?

Chances are, you’ve been tempted to think that from time to time about a teacher, but probably not often enough to justify the saying. Cassie Franklin, the main character of The Substitute, deserves a bumper sticker on her car proclaiming, “Those who can, teach.”

I’m proud to introduce Cassie and have you share in her professional and spiritual journey. Here’s a sneak peek at the back cover copy of my latest release, The Substitute.

She has a foolproof recipe for success and even shares it with others.

When her family moves, seasoned home economics teacher Cassie Franklin never dreams she won’t land a job in a school district known for hiring the crème de la crème. But when the first day of school rolls around without an interview, she begins to worry.

A call to substitute at Sully High School just might be her lucky break.

Or not. Sour staff members and a butchered budget sabotage her every move.

Under increasing pressure, Cassie fights to prove she’s still a professional. Can she tweak her cherished formula for success before becoming a total flop?

The Substitute is Book Two in the Sully Parkway series and is best enjoyed after reading Book One, The Jesus Car.

Now available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback versions!

Company Time

Do you have a love/hate relationship with time? I sure do! In the past, I’ve vacillated between boredom and wondering how to “kill” time, or stress and wondering how to “find” more time. When I was growing up, my mother set an excellent example for me. Even when she relaxed, it seemed that she was doing something constructive. She watched TV and ripped wrong stiches out of a dress she was making. She reserved a minuscule amount of time for reading just before going to bed. (I still think reading is more fun when I should be doing something else!) As a teen, I underlined multiple proverbs in my Bible, urging me to be diligent and imitate the busy ant. Mother’s message had reached my brain, although not always to my hands and feet.

By now you’ve probably guessed this post isn’t about having company over for dinner. But it’s not about time management, either. I started to write it in my head during the early months of the pandemic. At first time weighed heavy. With everything moving online, familiar activities such as church, Bible studies, and writers’ groups took less time.

Soon, though, I saw new needs around me and they filled much of that time. That was fine–up to a point. Sometimes they sucked me dry. Why did needs crop up when I felt the most tired?

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t always follow the Holy Spirit’s promptings to respond to needs, although I usually tried.

A couple months ago, though, I just put my feet up and reclined with one basically frivolous mystery after another. For several days. I don’t binge watch TV, but I can binge read with the best of them. “I can do this. I’m retired,” I told myself.

Not!

I’m not retired from Kingdom service. I’m never “off the clock.”

Paul knew the struggle and challenged Timothy, “Never lose your sense of urgency, in season or out of season.” (2 Timothy 4:2, Phillips)

I’m no Paul–not even a Timothy–but their mission is my mission, so I’d often taken the challenge as my own. Now God had given me the chance to experience it on a new level.

I’m never “off the clock.” It’s always “company time.”

I accept the challenge. Lord, may I never lose my sense of urgency!

What about the “sucked dry” part, you ask? Don’t set yourself up for burnout!

Thankfully, the Kingdom works differently from our world. Jesus reminds us to work under his power, not ours, for real results. Paul had a thorn in his flesh to teach him to rely on Christ’s strength. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” ( 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV)

2 Corinthians 9:8 highlights this sufficiency so well: “And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” ( NIV 1984; emphasis mine)

Don’t forget that the Kingdom provides for rest, as well. We serve the God who rested after He created. He cares for sparrows and offers us an easy yoke.

This rest is grace–a provision–not an entitlement. (Preaching to myself!)

I accept the “company time.” challenge! I’m not punching a time clock. How about you?

On it!

Picture this. Your backseat cargo wobbles as you turn into the gravel lot of the huge barnlike structure serving as Ben’s workshop. You resist the umpteenth urge to throw your arm over the backseat to steady it and prevent further damage. Pretty soon, it’ll be Ben’s problem. He’ll fix everything.

The whine of a saw greets you as you step out of your car, followed by the heady scent of fresh wood. You wrestle the broken rocker out of the back, turn it upside down, and rest the seat on your shoulder. That oughta make you look at home in a place like this. You stride to the half-open king-size sliding shop door and enter Ben’s domain.

A helmeted head (likely Ben’s) bends in concetration and orange and yellow sparks fly as the creator welds metal together to form an object only he could identify. Chandelier? Table legs? Pipes for a giant sink? Given the loud sizzles emanating from the table, you tiptoe forward and have the common sense to keep a safe distance.

The welder lays his tool down and flips his helmet back, holding the creation up for inspection. “Oh, hey there! Didn’t hear you come in. You’re the lady with the rocker. Pam, right?” He sets the spidery metallic object down and pulls off his gloves.

“Right.” Suddenly shy, you glance briefly at the rocker, now sitting lopsided on the sawdust-covered floor, then at the burly guy clad in a blue flannel shirt and rubbery coveralls. Definitely Ben, king of restorations and wizard of furniture fixes.

Ben covers the distance between you in a couple of long lopes and sticks out his hand, then retracts it again. “Sorry. Old habits die hard. I’m Ben, by the way.” He tips his bearded head toward the rocker. “This the patient?”

You chuckle. “It’s on it’s last legs.”

He reaches out a hand and gives the rocker a push. “Or off its rocker.”

You look way up into his friendly blue eyes. “Will it be too hard to fix? I mean, it has sentimental value, but is it worth it?”

He hefts it to his shoulder, just like I’d done earlier. What d’ya know! “Sure. Restoration. That’s what I do.”

With one gentle heft, he sets the chair on the counter behind his worktable, waves a dismissive hand, and begins to don his gloves. “On it!”

He flips his helmet down again and bends over his creation. Quirky xylophone?

But he’s working on the pot rack thingy again, not your rocker.

You forgot to tell him you wanted the worn design on the back restored.

You didn’t ask him when it would be done.

Yikes! you didn’t even ask him how much it would cost.

And you certainly didn’t try to tell him how to do his job.

He’s on it.

You’re outta there. Leaving my broken rocker behind. Not coming back till he calls to say the job is done.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. I Peter 5:9 NIV

Tug of World

During the approximately 81 hours of pep rallies I experienced (translation: endured) during my high school teaching years, Tug o’ War between the classes was one of the most popular games played. The freshmen developed school spirit by competing against the sophomores. The seniors usually triumphed over the juniors, of course. What was up with that?

Even this non-athlete knows that Tug o’ War starts with each side determined to win, taking a firm, strong stance. In a good game, things appear equal on both sides as players flex muscles, lean back, and grit teeth. Slowly, the balance of power changes as one side gains the advantage. If it’s still a good game, the advantage might shift again. In a less-than-equal contest, one side wins suddenly with a mighty tug.

In yesterday’s sermon, our pastor tackled the subject of spiritual warfare, beginning a series entitled Winning: Put on the Full Armor of God. He’s dealt with this before, and one of the most useful aspects of his teaching was the technique of naming our spiritual battles. Earlier, I shared how I applied this technique in Battle of Loopy Lie Valley and The War for Independence. Once I identify what mind games the enemy is using in my spiritual battles, it’s harder to ignore them. Sometimes I’m in the middle of full-blown conflict without realizing it, and having a list of battles won previously with God’s help wakes me up and calls me back into the fight. It just occured to me that Could I Interest You in an Appetizer? grew out of my facing The Day of Distraction, another frequent battle.

So what is Tug o’ World and what do I do about it? At first, I’m standing firm, Kingdom priorities in order, viewing the world around me from a relatively mature believer’s perspective. I’m making an effort, with the Holy Spirit’s help, to stay on mission. “This world is not my home” is a growing reality in my life, not just a song.

And then I listen to the news just an hour more one day. And the next. The familiar voices and faces are comforting. And then I leave the television on as I do things around the house instead of listening to Christian music. The tug of the world is so subtle. I scroll mindlessly through Facebook, duped that something there will inspire me–still watching the news, of course. Gradually, my world is very different. If I’m not careful, I might find myself in the Skirmish of Imagination Inflation before I know it, worrying about being an invisible senior locked away forever “for my protection” or plotting a dystopian novel I do not intend to write.

A friend is having a new home built nearby. She’s immersed in design details and appliance purchases, and runs her ideas by me. Recently, I got my neighbors together to have our sad, sagging townhome fences replaced and I had my treacherous front steps rebuilt. Fun, positive conversations and projects providing a welcome distraction from current events. I watched HGTV instead of the news. But then I started salivating over appliances and flooring samples in Home Depot and dropped into bed still thinking about my next project. Tug o’ World had shifted from politics to material things, but I was still losing the battle.

Praise God that He does not leave us alone, wandering about the battlefield like soldiers with amnesia! Much more patient that a drill sergeant, He teaches the same lesson over and over in different ways, presenting me with weapons and showing me how to use them.

Here are a few of these scripture weapons:

Hebrews 12:1-3, in particular the command to “fix my eyes on Jesus” from verse 2. Sometimes a reminder is enough to prepare me for the next tug of the world. Way back when I was taking driver’s ed, one of the students in my car needed a constant reminder to “watch the road.” Scary! Those prompts kept us alive, though. Fixing my eyes on Jesus helps me win the battle.

When Proverbs 3:5-6 “insisted” on becoming my 2020 verse of the year, I admit I was disappointed. Why this oldie instead of something new and challenging? Ha! I had no idea how pertinent this advice would be in 2020! I can’t pretend to understand what’s going on right now or know how it will play out, but God does, and I need a constant reminder to lean on Him. I need to submit to Him in everything–not an easy task, but so important for straight paths and winning my battles. (Preaching to myself again–I’ve forgotten this verse lately!)

The book of Revelation has encouraged me lately. In particular, Chuck Swindoll’s Living Insights Commentary has helped me see in more graphic ways the reality of what’s become a platitude: God is in control. Oh, how the enemy wants me to think I need to be in control, or certain politicians should or shouldn’t be in control! There are so many weapons here in skirmishes of Imagination Inflation that I had trouble choosing. Here’s a sample from page 107 in the application of Revelation 5:1-14:

The One who is worthy to exercise judgment and rule over the earth will accomplish His will through your life. Human history is littered with the wreckage of failed attempts to fix humanity’s problems, but we can turn to Christ, who has paid the price to bring about a glorious future. When we trust in Christ instead of ourselves, the evil and opposition of the world seems much less daunting. It’s all subject to Him! When we see His brilliant splendor looming on the horizon, we can endure this present darkness with ever-increasing hope.

Enough said!

Stay in the battle. Preaching to myself.

Outwardly wasting away; inwardly renewed

Someone joked online recently about a virus-related health questionnaire asking if she had any aches and pains. (I haven’t run across that one yet, have you?) She chose to answer “No more than usual.” I’ve been thinking how I would answer if confronted with the same question at the beauty salon today.

In our worldly existence, we’re all subject to aches and pains–and worse, and we spend a lot of energy trying to prevent them ,dull them, and cope with them in various ways. Even our brains are subject to deterioration.

My beautiful, intelligent, and godly mother almost made it to her 99th birthday. She survived breast cancer and enjoyed excellent health most of her life but she did suffer with dementia during her last few years. Although she never forgot her family members or had major personality changes, I felt her quality of life was greatly diminished. I still wrestle with “why?” and I confess some of my questions are mixed with concern about whether this will happen to me, too.

Because of her faith in Jesus, I know Mother went to heaven, where she longed to go for many years. Sometime after her earthly body wore out completely, I rediscovered a scripture which put a balm on much of the discomfort I felt about what I’d categorized as her “ignominious” final years. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 showed me there’s more going on in the life of a Christian that meets the eye, or than we can feel as we go about our daily activities.

Reading, one of Mother’s greatest pleasures next to music, became difficult. Fortunately, she’d been an eager Bible student throughout her life and hidden scripture in her heart when her mind was sharp. I discovered a stack of her memory cards which reminded me that these truths were still in her heart when she could no longer read or understand. Supernaturally, the Holy Spirit was using them to renew her inwardly, when all I could see was the wasting away of her earthly body.

When Mother could no longer pray, Romans 8:26-27 reassures me that the Holy Spirit intereceded for her, perhaps using as fuel some of the scripture that she had memorized.

As I try to hide God’s Word in my heart, too, I’m reminded that God does not abandon his creatures. Even as I search for the verse, Psalm 92:12-15, which I supposedly memorized, I’m reminded that the Lord does not abandon his children (the righteous). He helps them continue to bear fruit as they age, and as they waste away outwardly, they are renewed inwardly day by day. Even though I don’t always understand His ways, “he is my rock, and there is no wickedness in him.”

Happy Birthday in heaven, Mother!

Could I Interest You in an Appetizer?

You smile and accept the menu, your mind on catching up with the friends you’ve joined for dinner. The server hovers. “Can I get you started with an appetizer tonight?”

Since you’re with a group, you might settle on something to share and the server hurries off. He returns just as you’ve caught up on your friend’s latest news and begin to hear the rumbling of your stomach.

By the time you’ve polished off the appetizer and your meal arrives, your appetite has diminished. You groan as the server sets a huge feast before you. What possessed you to snack on hot, buttered bread in between bites of steamed mussels or spicy grilled shrimp? How will you ever do justice to your steak and baked potato or your Italian feast?

How did “appetizers” get their name, anyway? Mom was right that eating between meals spoiled your appetite!

If you’re still with me and you haven’t run to the fridge for a snack, you probably want to know what this has to do with our spiritual life, right?

Spiritual appetizers aren’t like restaurant appetizers.

During the early days of the pandemic, the days often dragged. Like everyone, I missed my daily routine. My house and my entire neighborhood were quiet. (Hard to believe if your entire family was suddenly at home together 24 hours a day looking for a tranquil corner, but I didn’t have that problem.) As she stared at the occasional preoccupied passer-by during our walks, I knew even Angie the dog missed people and fellow canines.

I started to create a new routine centered around time with the Lord and virtual connections centered on spiritual things. A podcast during our morning walk. Noon prayer with one or more churches. A weekly online Bible study. My own worship service on Sunday, followed by others that I might want to visit as well. This became the new normal and was a helpful way to stay connected with God and with fellow believers.

My appetite and need for spiritual sustenance were strong.

Slowly, days have become fuller and noisier. I’ve ventured out a bit. Now the virus wasn’t the only news on TV, and I “had” to stay informed. I tackled some big projects around the house. I had to rush to get up and over to the dog sitter’s so I’d arrive at an appointment on time. The “old normal” tried to reassert itself.

A vague sense of disquiet marred the tranquility I’d cultivated earlier.

I skipped the opportunity to turn on the Christian radio station and allow some music to shape my thoughts.

“I should probably settle down and pray or do my Bible study. I’d feel better,” I would tell myself.

Sometimes, an insidious voice would whisper, “That’s silly. You were really overdoing it before.”

My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”

Your face, LORD, I will seek.

Psalm 27:8 NIV

Strangely, when I managed to silence the deceptive voice and sample the appetizer, I wanted more. Spiritual appetizers helped me crave more spiritual food, not less.

And that’s a good thing!

When the Spirit’s voice tries to interest you in an appetizer, say yes!

The Serenaded Dog Walker

It’s been quite a while since I posted as the Singing Dog Walker! Today I’d like to share about being sung to, in other words, serenaded.

It didn’t happen while walking Angie, one of the few excuses for leaving home these days. Poor Angie doesn’t like social distancing one bit. Or maybe I’m the one who doesn’t like it. Frankly, it’s both of us! Angie strains and prances when she sees someone she wants to greet or would like to pet her. I just do it inwardly. Angie, the extrovert, and her introverted mom both miss socializing. Angie on walk

I have not decluttered, learned calligraphy, or studied New Testament Greek.

Good days have a structure revolving around virtual Bible studies and prayer interludes provided by local churches, two or three walks with Angie, a smidgen of editing, a good dinner (and probably too many desserts and news broadcasts).

Occasionally, when the balance tips toward too much news, I have to crank up the worship music instead. Or open my Bible. Soon, perspective is restored.

For the time being.

But God’s Word, whether read or sung, is one of our powerful weapons.

I believe it.

Recently, I’ve experienced it.

It’s obvious the enemy wants to sow discouragement, fear, and even despair. Anything to squelch the light. Steal our joy. Make us want to hide away, silence our voices and pens, and re-emerge when our officials give the okay.

But music and God’s Word, paired with prayer, push me out of hiding.

God has used two beautiful songs recently to quiet and encourage me: Goodness of God and the The Blessing. I particulary love the version sung in the UK.

In this challenging time, the Lord has reminded me powerfully that He will never fail me and will never forsake me. He is good. He showers me with His good gifts. Nothing can separate me from His love. He loves me and knows what’s on my mind at any moment, whether I am focused on Him or not. He is hearing and responding to blessings prayed over me decades before my birth and continuing today.

And He is rejoicing over me with singing.

sleeping woman

Just this morning, I awakened hearing “the Lord bless you and keep you” being sung in my heart. (Normally, I just look at the clock and justify more sleep.) A few days before, I heard words singing of the goodness of God.

What an amazing heavenly Father I have. He sings to me.

How can I not say, “This is the day You have made. I will rejoice and be glad in it”?