Tuesday Church

I read a post the other day that really resonated with me.  I want to tell you all about it, but it's so much better to read first hand.

Check it out: what church looks like, by Kate Motaung. 

I know church looks different for all of us - the building sort of church, and the people sort of church - but no matter what, church meets us in the faces of those who love Jesus, the hands that reach out, the feet that come to meet us. 

This morning, Sam woke up a little after 5.  I've been trying to get him to come out of his room without waking Vava (a really big temptation), so I was proud of him for coming to me quietly, not turning on the lights, not shaking her crib ... but I was definitely not ready for him to be up. 

I brought him in to bed for a snuggle with me, and told him we could get up at 6:30.  Until then, even if he couldn't sleep, he needed to let his body rest. 

He wasn't impressed.

So my wrestling match day began at 5, and at 6:30 when Vava woke up, we were launched full-on into the torrent of contrariness and whining that is the usual result of a too-early wake time. 

Long story short, by 7:30 I knew there was no way we could spend this damp grey day inside, hosting a play date.  I needed to get out of the house, and let the cranky energy dissipate in some fresh air.

Know what church looked like for me today?  A friend who wasn't fazed by me canceling on her, who met me at the park, and showed up with coffee in hand.  It looked like a hug and empathy and caffeine and some good laughs.

Ahhhhh.

I'm so so grateful for the hands and feet of Jesus, for the church that is His body, dispensing everyday grace into my needy heart.