The Sleepover

"Pappy, are you a-seep?" Katie said in the only kind of whisper a 2-year-old can muster into my dad's ear at roughly midnight. He giggled, and I'm sure my mom followed suit. The night with Katie in between my parents in their king-sized bed would be full of story-reading, giggling and a few crying sessions for her mommy and daddy. But when Dad stumbled into the kitchen for a cup of hot coffee the next morning, despite his exhaustion, he reported it had been the best slumber party ever.
We're blessed to live little more than an hour away from my folks, which makes day trips between our two towns fairly easy. But we hadn't spent the night at Nana and Pappy's since my son, Adam, was born six months ago. Before he was born, Katie would sleep in a playpen in my dad's office while Aaron and I bunked in a spare room just down the hall. But Adam had the claim on the playpen this trip, leaving Aaron and I puzzling over where to put Katie. She'd never spent even one night in bed with us, and frankly we weren't too excited about inviting her in and potentially starting a trend. My parents, on the other hand, were more than eager. "OK," Aaron and I said with reluctance - not wanting to subject them to what we knew would be a much more eventful night than they'd bargained for, but also not wanting one for ourselves.
What I often fail to realize is that such things are grandparenting bliss.
And Katie had just as much fun on her visit, being fed whatever she wanted and holding a captive audience while dancing around the living room to Barney tunes. To top it off, my aunt is in the midst of knitting Katie the cutest little hats and clothes and spent some time using a mini-measuring tape to check Katie's dimensions. Ever the student, Katie began holding the device up to every object within her reach, reporting everything as measuring "one-a-pounds." We all cackled.
Adam, of course, was in his own state of euphoria. His rear scarcely touched any hard surface, as he had several sets of eager arms just waiting to cradle him. And his enthusiastic grin had everyone enamored.
But as in all good things, it had to end. We packed up the car and kids and headed home to Louisville, with our babies falling fast asleep within just a few minutes of our departure. Katie, who'd spent more than an hour slumping uncomfortably in her car seat startled awake with about five minutes left on our journey home. When our car rolled up the driveway, she finally recognized her surroundings and protested, "No home! No home!" And finally, as we rolled into the garage, Katie arched her back, screaming, "No!"
She was home. Back to nights in her crib with no one to talk to but her stuffed bears and duckies, and they don't giggle back. There would be no more snacks immediately following dinner. I will try to be a more enthusiastic audience when the Katie show is on, maybe less engrossed in the household tasks I'm usually trying to accomplish in the mean time. But I've got a feeling that nothing really replaces the kind of attention kids get from their Nanas and Pappies. And maybe that's the way it ought to be.

Sing

Surrounded by your glory what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you, Jesus, or in awe of you be still?
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing 'Hallelujah?' Will I be able to speak at all?"
I Can Only Imagine is one of my favorite worship songs of all time because it really makes me think about what it will be like to finally be where I was created to be. And I have a sneaking suspicion I'll be one who will be speechless in His presence. Maybe part of that comes from recognizing that after all these years of spending so many words honoring myself down here, it will be fitting to have my silence honor Him there. But the other reason I think I'll be silent is because I can't get through Revelation Song without my voice cracking into broken sobs.
It's not that I'm shy, and there's not even a hint of timidity in me when I sing. In fact, I probably belt it out a little too much. I seem to remember a choir director from my past saying to a group I was in that in a really great choir, a listener shouldn't be able to pick out any one voice. And I'm fairly certain that was said for my benefit, to no avail. I love to sing and I love to worship, but sometimes I wonder if I'm singing with the right audience in mind. Revelation Song seems to jerk me into proper perspective.
So if you were to glance at me singing it during worship service at Southeast Christian Church, chances are that while my mouth is moving there may not be any actual sound coming out of it. It usually happens during the chorus:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is and is to come.
With all creation I sing praise to the King of Kings.
You are my everything, and I will adore you.
That first line is what John wrote that the six-winged creatures continually said as they surrounded the throne of God. And while I can sing this song to my babies when I'm rocking them to sleep, being in a sanctuary with about 7,000 other people singing it renders me mute. It gives me a striking sense of what it will be like to be in God's presence among all His people - each one of whom is repeating that same refrain of the angels - and it's a feeling so ovewhelming that I can't make a sound.
And to those who wonder why I'm crying as we leave the sanctuary, it's because all I can do is hope the Lord gives me the ability to sing in His presence. I'd like to sing that song to Him all day.