Confessions of a Sunday Morning

Yes, it's Monday. I know. But I didn't get a chance to write this out until now. So deal with it. ;)

Here's some honestly for your day:

Sunday mornings are...well...interesting, to put it nicely, in our home. I'm

fairly certain we're not alone in this. Right? (Lie to me.)

There are very few things that are more frustrating than watching yourself

balloon up on a daily basis with clothes that seem to be shrinking at

lightening speed. And the clothes that do marginally fit still are

either kinda ugly or incredibly uncomfortable...oftentimes both at the

same time. Sure does wonders for a woman's self-esteem.

And what just adds insult to injury, is a horrible haircut. Awful. And no,

I'm not being dramatic. I currently have THE WORST haircut I have ever

had in my life. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I just ask,

"What the heck what she thinking???" She didn't just give me a kind of

mullet. It's a really bad, uneven mullet. So much win. And there's

really not a whole lot I (or anybody else, really) can do about it. It

just sucks.

So...imagine me on a Sunday morning in front of the mirror. Trying to get ready for church. Attempting to look somewhat nice and appropriate and put together. (**NOTE: the people in

my church probably couldn't care less what I look like. Not because they

don't care about me, they just love me regardless of how I'm dressed or

what my hair looks like. They're pretty wonderful like that.**)

So can you imagine that scene? A large, wild woman, huffing and puffing

around a hot house, on the verge of exploding into tears or expletives

because of her less-than-ideal appearance that she seems to have

absolutely zero control over.

Lovely, yes?

Then add to that the grown man dragging his feet and being essentially

unresponsive because he's still practically asleep, 1) because he's

never a morning person and loathes waking up and 2) didn't get much

sleep the night before.

Also add the high-energy child who wakes up begging to watch shows and eat candy all morning and

throws the mother of all meltdowns because he interprets the word "no"

as a promise that we will cut his fingers off one by one.

Again, just being honest with you. This is our reality. And I'm confident

we're not the only ones who have a similar version of this ugly madness.

(Just lie to me.)

Once we get our act together enough to get our butts in the car, probably a few choice words shared among the three of us, we may or may not be on time.

We start driving and I (aggressively) share with my still sleepy-eyed husband how

incredibly frustrating it is to hate so much the way I look right now

and that I can't do anything about and I don't wanna go anywhere or be

around anyone and I don't wanna smile and pretend to be so happy, happy,

happy with life right now. Don't wanna. Can't make me. Hmph.

And our lovely child is in the backseat already begging us to not take him

to church. We win as the best Christian parents ever.

My husband tells me how tired he is and sore and not feeling well. And

asks if we should just not go to church at all. Maybe we can just go get

breakfast somewhere instead and get in some early naps.

And it's definitely a tempting offer.

But...heck no. I just put my body through a half marathon to try to get dressed

and ready to go to church. And we don't just go to church when we feel like it. Because guaranteed, 9.5 times out of 10...we don't feel like it. There are always a thousand excuses/reasons to not go, but

that's not who we are. And that's not who we're teaching our son to be.

We don't just do what comes easy all the time.

So we go. And we muddle through worship. I try to get my heart right and put

my mind and thoughts on Jesus, because He is the ONLY reason we are

there, or alive, in the first place. I try to convince myself that He

doesn't care what my hair looks like. It works enough for me to finally

get the scowl off my face and relax my tensed shoulders.

Worship is over and while we are giving tithes and offerings, they worship team sings Holy Spirit

by Bryan and Katie Torwalt. This is the furthest thing from a new song

to me. I'm actually really over it because it's been so over-played in my world.

But as they sing, I think of the words. Not for the first time, but in relation to how my morning has gone.

There's nothing worth more

That could ever come close

No thing can compare

You're our living Hope

Your presence Lord

And I'm flooded with the reality that there really is no other thing or
place that could satisfy like the presence of the Holy God. Nothing else
compares with the sweetness of the presence of the Lord. Instantly, my
soul and my heart has been refreshed. No amount of extra sleep or an
endless wardrobe or hair like a goddess or breakfast with my family
could ever bring fulfillment like what the Holy Spirit brings to my
life.

I want to say this: could we have possibly had an encounter with the
Creator if the Universe if we had stayed at home or gone somewhere else?
Absolutely. The Holy Spirit is not and will not be confined to a
building with a steeple and certain number of worship songs sung with
people perfectly dressed. We could have met with the Father any and
every where...if our hearts had been an atmosphere of welcome to Him.
(Side not: they weren't.) 

But I am so grateful for a church home that is so intentional with being a place that

welcomes the Holy Spirit to come in power and truth to refresh and

uplift and even convict when needed. At the end of the day, there is no

place I'd rather be.