Sunday Morning Grace

Sunday is always an interesting morning at the Hansen's. I get up early to review my Sunday School lesson, print off the kids' coloring sheets, feed the dogs, iron dress clothes, and prepare my heart for the message I know our Pastor spent all week (and possibly the last couple of months) working on with God.

My husband will wait until the last second to roll out of bed and I'll roll my eyes when he says, "I'll be ready in one second. I just have to find..." Because I know all too well that whatever he's searching for, it will be a 10-minute ordeal. Then it will be a rush to see if we can actually get out the door by 9:30. Which never happens.

But at least we try.

I think that I spend too much time worrying on Sunday mornings. I worry that we'll be late. I worry about being a good teacher because I want my preschoolers to know Jesus. I worry that I'll falter in my personal life and it will affect my church life. I worry that I won't rise to the occasion when one of my church people needs words of encouragement. I just worry.

This Sunday, however, I accepted the fact that I will get to church at 9:45, even though I wake three hours before I'm supposed to be there.

I accepted the fact that I can't teach my preschoolers anything without God's unfailing grace and mercy.

I accepted the fact that I will make mistakes and that God will have to wash those stains clean from time-to-time.

I accepted the fact that I won't always have the right words to say, but a hug will soothe any trouble.

And so my eyes were opened to see God on Sunday morning. And He didn't disappoint.

When one of the boys asked me if he could pray for us before story time, I choked up a little. And when he prayed that "Miss Jessi has a good day," I almost lost it. Then, he turned and taught the others how to 'say a really good prayer.'

When one of the elderly gentlemen rose from his chair, weak and trembling, to pray over our congregation, tears filled my eyes. Because even though is body was frail, His mind was focused on all things Jesus.

And when I was told by one of the older ladies that she's ready to see Jesus, with his arms outstretched waiting for her, I smiled. "Don't be sad for me," she reassured me, "when I go, you can know that I'm with my Lord. And I'm happy."

I have missed these God moments for many months because I let this world and all of it's troubles carry me away.

But I am eternally grateful for God's Sunday morning grace. The next time you find yourself rushing out the door for church, don't forget to thank God for His endless grace.