Let it out

Waist lines. Elastic pants would be in order following our Tulip Time food binge were it not for the many many blocks we speed-walked this weekend. While tourists may have been slightly deterred by the damp weather, locals throw caution to the wind, toss their 5 month old babies in strollers, and march with confidence to the town square in search of something worth bragging about - the perfect tulip time food. I was less impressed this year than years past. The two most perfect things I ate were my beloved bbq pork sandwich and a strawberry smoothie. I have almost reached the conclusion that nothing else need get in my way of food-happiness. Next year I plan to purchase, almost solely, bbq pork and a strawberry smoothie for every meal. Why mess with perfection?

Clouds. It has rained here...a lot. While we didn't get any scary weather, nothing that matched the Kansas nightmare, we have gotten more than enough rain. I don't frequently concern myself with the contents of the backyard at 2:00 a.m. I almost never get out of bed to see if our house is going to be flooded. But last night, after what seemed like HOURS of a very very hard rain I decided to look out the bedroom window and see if we should head for the lifeboats. After several minutes of mild panic (couldn't see out the window due to the heavy rain), a few bright lightning flashes enabled me to see there was a small lake out back, but nothing that should cause me concern. Reagan slept through all of it. Why on earth didn't I?!

Deep breath. I was terribly nervous for Sunday morning praise team. We "introduced" two new songs, both of which I really really liked but neither of which I felt totally confident about. While the service didn't go perfectly, it did go well and I was so relieved to be through it. My continual struggle is to remind myself that it really doesn't matter how well the praise team did. I get too caught up in the mechanics and the avenues of worship sometimes and lose sight of the real purpose. Worship will happen in the hearts of the people even if I mess up a melody or my descant sounds like howling. It isn't about me. The Banner has a nice article this month about music in our churches being for an audience of One. That's a humbling picture.