When I stand in church on Sunday mornings my arms are full of a boy who doesn’t realize that he is no longer a baby. Two and a half and I cherish his stubborn instance that he and I are still just one heart beating in two (barely) separate bodies.
My arms are full of my Micah on Sunday mornings.
And my heart feels the worship in ways it doesn’t when those same arms are empty.
The top of his head fits perfectly underneath my chin and with one hand he clutches his baby bear and with the other he oh-so-softly pats my back – right at the tippy-top of my shoulder blades.
I rock him and sing praise for his maker into an ear hidden behind soft curls that brush my top lip and tickle my nose. And suddenly, suddenly all those great and powerful phrases like “sacrifice” and “loves like a hurricane” and “blessed be the name of the Lord” take on Technicolor meaning.
With this boy wrapped in my arms, this flesh and blood and bone that I grew in my womb, clinging to me I understand what the God parent feels for me – to die for this love – yes, it makes sense.
I sing and I ache and I know that He loves me like this. This wrenching tugging at the gut as we rock and the drums beat and Graham leads us to sing off our fear, our failures our despair. I am Micah and Micah is me in this moment and the music wraps up and around us both until my head floods with the knowledge that this is how I am held. This is how.
And to do it, the Heavenly Father had to unwrap His arms from around His only Son. Unmake the closeness. Break more than the ties of flesh and blood. And Heaven itself cracked open when he let go of His Son and reached for me.
I stand. I stand in the worship with one arm cupped around my boy and the other reaching up and out to Him. Desperate not to disappoint. Desperate to catch hold of the hand He offers. Desperate to whisper my thanks. In the music, in the small words, in the rocking of the baby who is becoming a boy, I pour out my gratitude.
And my arms, how they ache with the weight of it.
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I know this feeling. This is a beautiful post.
elizabeth@www.justfollowingjesus.com
What a worshipful post this is! Beautiful glory to our God!
This post so beautifully sums up so many of my feelings on a Sunday morning too xx
Amen. I have never thought it out loud but as I read your post, I realized that this is one of the reasons I want our little guy in worship with us rather than shipping him off to the Children’s Church. His body in my arms changes my worship experience. Thank you for giving this words.
Yes, exactly. Somehow having that little body breathing against mine makes the words I am singing take on a whole new layer of meaning.
I love this picture you painted..
So exquisite.
The curls, the baby breath. I would bottle it if I could.
now that is some intimate worship! beautiful.
Came by from a holy experience. What a beautiful description!
Hi there – welcome and thanks! I would hold my nearly five year old, gangly legs and all, if he would ever let me ;)
Beautiful. I miss that feeling. My “baby boy” just turned 5yrs…oh I miss those baby snuggles!! :)
I have another one that will turn 5 in August. So happy that his baby brother still lets me squeeze in plenty of snuggles!
Oh this was so beautiful! The image of you holding your son and the correlation between the Father’s love for us, is breath-takingly beautiful. And your words of how He sacrificed the closeness of His son to reach for me….just so moving. Thank you for these words today.
Thanks. Every Sunday I think about how I need to write this feeling down. I’m so glad I finally did. I plan to come read it again myself when I forget.
i wonder how God feels when we tap tap tap the tippy top of His shoulder blade as we are held…
*sigh*
He loves it.
Oh man – yes – that image just gave me chills. Thanks Jenny.
That is beautiful! It almost..ALMOST made me cry.
Now that’s a compliment! {Real men, ain’t afraid to cry!} :)
Our church keeps the kids with us during worship too — yesterday for the first time I saw my 5 year old with his arms raised in the air, eyes closed, singing. I almost fainted of happy. Perfection, to watch my child learn intimacy in that way. I imagined how God must feel when we do that, especially when we don’t just do it once a week…
-Ari
Let’s do some of that together in October, eh?
I miss having my little man in my arms so much but now when I reach for our Lord I reach for my children in heaven to. I know our heavenly father is holding them close. Xx
This is beautiful.
I love worshiping with my babies in my arms! This was written so beautifully! Captured my feelings exactly!
It’s a special kind of intimacy, isn’t it?
If it helps (since my boy is now 12), you’ll always hold on tight to him and he to you. {And he still loves to “snuggy” with me!!}
I have chills. Brought back such good memories. Thank you
Tamara
http://hisperfectpromises.blogspot.com/
Such a sweet picture on such a powerful post! To love and trust and rest and lean in close to Him the way they lean in close to us… how sweet it is :-)
This is one of the most beautiful, heart-felt posts I have ever read!!! Thank you for sharing it with us. A few years ago, not having my own children, I had the chance to hold my friend’s boy… I still remember the pain in my wrists and at the same time, the great joy I felt from having him hold unto me so strongly! :) And still… he was not my own child!!! Now, years later when I’ve been blesses with a beautiful son myself, my understanding of God’s love for me grows every day! Can you imagine- God loves me more than I love my own child?? How great is this God we have!!! And how much love is available to us to enjoy and reflect on in this world… Love you for this post! Thank you!! :)
Thanks so much Rosie. And yes, though my back my ache, though my arms may hurt, though my kid’s legs might dangle way too low to justify my holding him, I wouldn’t give up one second of the blissful weight of knowing what it is to hold love in your arms.
This brought tears to my eyes. Treasure it. My moments like this have all but slipped away and I mourn the absence. And my youngest is just four.
I can’t stop crying. Thank you for putting my (Sunday morning) heart into beautiful words.
“Sunday morning heart” – yes, that’s exactly what it is.