a different kind of worship

So, it's been awhile. :) Our son Monkey arrived at the end of August, and we're in the midst of the transition.

Beautiful. Joyful. Precious.

Heart-wrenching. Painstaking. Hard.

You know how when you talk with people, and they tell you something is hard, but you just don't really know, do you?

As I was sitting on the couch yesterday, nursing a baby who was having trouble settling into the rhythm and cradling a crying toddler (because "mommy, pick me up!" is an impossibility when one has a baby on the breast), God brought these words to mind and I will cling to them:

This is a different kind of worship. A different kind of service.

There is nothing quite like standing in our church, raising my hands in worship; the beautiful truths of Scripture flowing from my lips in song, while my daughter nestles her head against my shoulder, or my infant son sleeps soundly in my arms.

How about standing in the hallway outside my daughter's bedroom, breathing deeply to control my impatience with her whining, while the baby cries out from the next room? The fruit of the Spirit is... Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Gentleness. Self-control.

What about the creative play on the floor? The glue sticks bought for more craft projects? The clumpy and unevenly spread peanut butter and jelly sandwich that your 2 1/2 year old wants to make "all by myself" that would get made oh-so-much-faster if mommy wrestled the table knife away?

Whatever you do unto the least of these, you do unto Jesus.

There is holiness in this work.

This is worship. This is service. Broken and poured out, again and again, all day long, for two precious little kiddos.