Hospital

That's where we've been. Mercy was put in on Monday, very dehydrated. She had both a bacterial infection of the colon (c-diff, for those nurses out there) as well as rotavirus. Lovely combination. I assure you. But I'll spare you the details. We came home last night, very tired, but very happy to be at home. Our ordeal may not be over, as the rotavirus often takes 2 weeks to runs it's full course. It's quite likely we'll be back for more fluids before it's all over. We're happy to be in the comfort of home for now, though. No rest for the weary in that place!

I so have been dying to post a particular experience I had this past Sunday. My husband and I led worship at a little church in the country Sunday morning. Very laid back. Just his guitar, and he and I singing. We were a little apprehensive that being so traditional of a church, the body wouldn't participate in worship, but rather view it more as a performance by us. We so wanted to lead others... not put on a show. Turns out, this little church knows the God we do, and they were anxious to glorify Him.

Very aware of the tendency as a musician to be caught up in performance and perfection of the music/singing, my knees were still a little sore from all the pre-prayer. I so wanted to reflect my relationship, not show my skills. (I realize that may sound conceited) Anyway, about half way through one particular song my husband quit playing his guitar all together. Up until that point, I could really only hear myself, his voice, and his guitar. Though I could see the body of Christ worshipping their bride. I had closed my eyes about the time his guitar dropped out, and left only the sound of voices singing out praises to their Creator.

And then.... a dying cow. Really. Some horrible sound I didn't think was singing at first. There's no way to describe it over the computer. You really need the audio version. It reminded me of my first attempts at the french horn. Or a momma cow giving birth. And words indistinguishable. A very monotoned, flat sound, the ends of the notes (can't really call them notes, just wails) falling even farther from the original pitch. Let me remind you my eyes were closed. I almost laughed. I know I stopped singing. And thought, "What the heck IS that?". But not wanting to just bug my eyes out like every cell in me was begging me to do.

So, being ever so proper, I only opened one eye. I had to pretend to still be in the worshipful spirit, right? Stupid. But I'm awful glad I took a peek. I would have missed the most beautiful thing ever if I hadn't. Proper or not, I'm glad I looked. Never much was one for proper, anyway. Why start now?

There, just a couple of pews from the front, stood a beautiful young lady with Down's Syndrome. Singing and loving her Jesus with all her heart. In a much more pure, innocent, and full of trust kind of way than I could ever do.

And suddenly, what I had just moments before thought was, well, a dying cow outside the church window - became the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. If only I could sing like her. And hear like Jesus. Amazing.