When we worked as family teachers at BoysTown, we were required to take the kids to the churches on campus, so we rarely had the opportunity to attend our church off campus. A week or so after going through a devastating miscarriage, I was longing to go to our church and feel comforted and to worship as best I could in my fragile state. I went alone and got settled in near the back, and soon realized that it happened to be a Sunday where all the new babies were being dedicated. Watching a dozen families holding their tiny, pink infants on stage was like a fresh stab to my already broken heart and I wept silently from my seat. Soon after, the congregation sang Matt Redman's "Blessed Be Your Name", and while I was unable to sing, those words became more significant to me than I can express. I began to realize what it is to have a heart of thankfulness always; not 'for' the difficult stuff, but 'in' it. On that day, my heart was broken as only a mom's can be when her child dies inside of her, but I somehow understood that God loved me still and allowed this to happen for a purpose.
Today, over five years later, we sang "Blessed Be Your Name" and my thoughts were on how God gives and takes away, and how there is indeed pain in the offering of our praise. But today, more than that, my heart was full with the sun shining down on me. My world, with all of its unknowns and gaping absences, still felt 'as it should be', and I praised God for all of the people He has placed in my life to care for me and my family.
I haven't had a dance party in my dining room for a good long time. Anyone?
