Fly. If I was a superhero and had one supernatural physical ability, without hesitation, I’d want the ability to fly.
In real, every day life though, my comfort zone is in my roots, not my wings. I thrive in a community of people to do life with. My Bible study, my church, the place of work that had become my family, holidays surrounded by family and friends, the rolling hills that nourish my soul… where my roots are is where I flourish.
Within the past couple months, I was finally able to admit to myself that I truly had no idea what I was getting myself into when entering this Army way of life. Yes, I knew we’d move every few years, I knew I’d have to find a new community each place we went… and church and doctors and services you take for granted going to the same professional for years and generations (our family literally went to the same veterinarian for 30+ years and cried when he retired).
I butted up against this realization hard. Almost six years into this transient way of life, my spirit had had enough. I knew there wasn’t any changing it – God has called my husband that I love dearly to his career in the Army. He is shining and is fervently dedicated to where God has called him to serve.
God and I had to wrestle through the desire for roots that He has so strongly woven into me, and the life I was actually called to live. He was the only one that could give me peace.
I completely drew inward for over a week. When I normally verbally run into the ears of my closest family and friends for help and encouragement, I knew God and I had to work this one out alone.
During that week, one day after lunch, I found myself on my knees on our kitchen floor. Grabbing my phone through shaking hands, I began to play the song that has been my go-to in this season, Jenn Johnson’s “Gravity”.
In desperation, I begged God to take care of my sweet, not quite two year old in the other room for two minutes so I could worship through the raging flood of tears barreling down my face. I just needed to be with Him, My Mighty Warrior, through this moment.
Throughout this season, worship had become my go-to, my escape, my sprinting into the arm’s of God’s presence for these things that I did not understand.
As the music began to play and the tears continued to rage, I heard the pitter-patter of little footsteps rounding the corner into the kitchen.
“God, WHY?!” I thought. “I just need TWO MINUTES to be with you.”
In the stillness, as I felt little hands reach around me, I heard a strong voice, ever so clearly:
“This is worship.”
As I raised my head up off the floor, leaning back onto my knees to sit up and hold the not-so-baby girl in front of me, I knew exactly what God meant.
Halting what I needed to do in that moment to hold the little one crawling into my arms, this is worship.
Asking Handsome Husband how his day was, making and sharing dinner together, this is worship.
Making pasta through nap time, listening to worship music to trudge through the loneliness of another new state, another new town, this is worship.
Carrying the clothes, sheets and towels down the stairs to our washer and dryer in the basement, this is worship.
Relying on my Heavenly Father to provide the peace my soul was aching for, this is worship.
It’s not just a lyrics and notes of a song. It’s not just Sunday morning. Praising our Abba Father and positioning ourselves to the things of heavenly value in the everyday, in the hard, in the tedious, in the mundane, this is worship.
Worship is in all we do, all we think… worship is, and is in, everything.
DONA Certified Birth Doula and Professional Birth Photographer serving Central Missouri including Rolla, St. James, St Robert, Waynesville, Fort Leonard Wood, Salem, Licking, Dixon, Cuba, Newburg, Jefferson City and more; at General Leonard Wood Army Community Hospital and Phelps County Regional Medical Center.