Rain splashes on these upstairs windows as I lay next to our 2 oldest boys.
I quietly folded warm towels while we watched a video. (Movie time is rare and much-treasured in this stern household) and the boys' choice this afternoon was "The Original Christmas Classics Sing Along."
(We're talking old songs!)
Christmas in July.
Oh, it is the coziest moments.
In a home filled with movement and energy and voices and fights and playtime, sitting still and watching these boys' ever-growing bodies and peaceful facial expressions is a treat.
And then, a song came on. Not usually my favorite one, but today it stopped me quick.
"The Little Drummer Boy" (from 1968, featuring the Vienna Boys Choir).
Tears came to my eyes.
The words and the softness of the music opened my heart in a way that song has never reached me before:
("The Little Drummer Boy" performed by Susan Boyle)
"Come, they told me,
A newborn King to see,
Our finest gifts we bring,
To lay before the King,
So to honor Him,
When we come
Little baby,
I am a poor boy too,
I have no gift to bring,
That's fit to give our King,
Shall I play for You,
On my drum
On my drum
I play my drum for Him
So to honor Him
Mary nodded,
The ox and lamb kept time,
I played my drum for Him,
I played my best for Him
Then He smiled at me,
Me and my drum
When we come
Me and my drum"
I looked down at my hands and arms.
In them were towels. Towels used and dirtied by my loved ones, those that I take care of with my hours and minutes. These towels were now clean and in the process of being flattened and folded.
The word "sacrifice" is that familiar word we may all often use to describe our efforts or responsibilities or expectations throughout our days, whether at home or in employment (or both!). That word can ring "grudging" and "suffering" or can ring "beauty" and "purpose."
Thoughts came to the front of my mind; ones that have been lingering often in my perspective recently. Words written by Joni Eareckson Tada, in her book, "When God Weeps."
"A sacrifice brightens God's glory.
It demonstrates the enormously high value we attach to Him."
"God is pleased with praise, but He swells with joy when the praise He breathes has the aroma of a sweet-smelling sacrifice."
"What brings us peace is always praise."
As "The Little Drummer Boy" song continued, and that sweet little animated shepherd boy wipes tears from his eyes and slowly approached the manger with baby Jesus, my hands automatically and gently raised.
How much I could relate to that boy. Feeling those same ways: "I am a poor girl too. I have no gift to bring. That's fit to give our King."
So, what can I give?
My minutes. Those seconds, of insignificant meaning but that add up rapidly to form the minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years. To eventually represent a LIFE lived.
How do you and I spend those minutes? (What are those tasks?)
Working in a cubicle? Working outdoors? Visiting with patients? Diagnosing problems? Researching cures? Educating students? Giving hugs? Preparing baths? Cleaning up dirty diapers? Housework? Watching TV? Staring out the window? Laundry?
And what is included in those minutes? (What about your heart?)
Anxieties? Fears? Overwhelmed to-do lists? Self-focused obsessions? Burdens? Grief? Dread? Despair? Questions? Wonder? Awe? Honor? Praise?
How would you LIKE these minutes to be looked back on?
I am going to keep trying for the "sweet-smelling sacrifice" to describe these days in this season of my life. (Which is the only season I can even imagine right now!) The moments may seem redundant and pointless in the scheme of it all, but they are truly not. Not if the work and experience of each minute can somehow bring joy, bring fulfillment, bring deeper perspective and purpose. Even in laundry. Even in the repetition of folding those same clothes and towels, day after day and year after year. Not when you stop within each job and consider the Bigger Picture.
What about your season?
What would stir you to continue to live purposefully, even in the dreary, mundane moments?
What do you wish your younger self would be able to SEE differently?
What do you think your older self will wish YOU had seen differently?
How can our days be spent as a sacrifice to The Bigger Picture:
No matter what our roles in this season.
How are we going to live our lives?
What is your vision, and how are your carrying it out?
This is our GIFT. Our sacrifice and our gift to our God.
A sacrifice,
Fit to give our King.
I play my drum for Him.
So to honor Him.
Then.
Then He smiled at me.
Blessings,
Elizabeth
