Today I come . . .
thinking about a roomful of high school kids who sort-of want to study the book of Revelation, but at the same time really want to text their friends;
smiling because my newly-turned-one-year-old gives himself rounds of applause and laughs so hard he can hardly catch his breath;
kicking myself for not getting his flu shot in time;
noticing the preschool classes are only 1/2 full because so many people are sick or avoiding sickness;
dreading going through all my emails and attending to all those who need my attention;
surrounded by piles that seem to loose importance once they're moved into this back room;
missing some things . . . bored of other things . . . thinking of far away friends . . . needing to sit down and pay bills;
I come . . . with a full plate and empty hands.
And this is our gathering song. Our thoughts and dreams harvested, bundled and set aside for a moment.
Our full plate removed so our empty hands can be lifted. Lifted in praise . . . in supplication . . . in a moment of receiving.
Perhaps the harvest will change during our time together. Perhaps my thoughts will change or shift or a new perspective will dawn.
Time to sing.
