Youth Sunday

People, whom we had not seen in about three years, came up to us and hugged and said how nice it was to see us and how great it was to have us there. I have mentioned before that Precious Son and Beautiful Daughter attend the church we all used to attend, until around three years ago when Big Daddy and I decided to leave. Well, here it was, Youth Sunday, and our children were actively participating. Not only our children, but the children we consider to be ours, as well. Normally, I would have had great reservations about attending a service there…but not this time. It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t for me. It was for our children…all of them.

We made our way down the aisle and sat where our children could see us. Before long we had people on both sides of us and in front of us talking in hushed tones letting us know how much we have been missed. Big Daddy and I smiled politely and thanked them for saying such nice things. Beautiful Daughter had made her way up to the chancel and took the microphone in her hand….

Seeing her up there, praising God through song, made us so incredibly proud. There are few words to describe the feeling of seeing your teenager sing her heart out in front of a large congregation and having the congregation be moved to sing with her. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Poised, sure of herself, and looking as lovely as anyone could imagine…that was our baby girl up there and she was blessing God through song.

Precious Son had been sitting with his friends and other youth as the moment for him to move toward the chancel approached. He gathered his things and excused himself as he moved down the pew. He stands 6’4” now, Precious Son does. A head full of loose locks and big, brown curls. He had on a starched white collared shirt with one of his dad’s ties. Pleated, black pants and thankfully, a belt. As he took his place on the side of the chancel, I noticed him gathering his things and perusing his notes one more time. Maybe twice.

Beautiful Daughter and the praise team finished up their songs and took their seats. Precious Son moved toward the pulpit and laid out his Bible.

He had not wanted to tell his dad and I what he was going to say for the Communion meditation, so we were listening with anxious ears, as well as everyone else. The sanctuary was full. Lots of people had come in support of their children’s or grandchildren’s participation. This church has a large number of attendees and looking out over the sea of faces would have unnerved the most seasoned speaker, but not Precious Son. He went straight for the microphone and offered a hearty “Good Morning!”

The boy is a great story teller. He gets that from his dad. He relayed his personal experience, his human-ness, and his forgiveness. He kept the audience in tune with his emotions and they “awwwww’d” when they were supposed and laughed when he planned. It was a powerful moment in our lives as parents to watch our baby boy offer up the Communion meditation to our God.

I cannot explain the depth of pride within me as I watched and worshipped with our children, but I can tell you this... I have seen Big Daddy shed a tear only three times in over twenty years...

As Big Daddy placed his Army dogtags in Grandfather’s casket…

When he told the children I have cancer.

And Sunday morning as his Daughter sang to the Lord God Almighty and as his Son stood before the congregation and offered a message of hope to any lost soul who does not know the Lord.