Sunday night at the Welch’s

NASCAR talk is on the TV. It’s not enough to watch the race, evidently it is as important to listen to people tell you what you saw,  see a couple of drivers fight and then every 15 seconds flip over to a food network channel, or “Facing the Giants” on Hallmark channel.  I’ve given up all rights to the TV years ago and the peace truce has worked great these last years as my man is happiest when the remote is in hand.

 

Ginny alternates between snoozing, Facebook, and what I believe is homework but the last three times I’ve asked her about homework she has told me she’s all caught up.  She cocoons on her bed under a nest of fleece blankets and pillows. I peek in on her every so often and when I catch her napping I kiss her on the head. Sweet girl.

 

A phone call to My Big girl finds her  editing pictures for a school assignment. She will wow them with her photography skills. She tells me that she’s hungry, (nothing new there, she’s always hungry) and that she misses me. Actually, I ask her if she misses me and she responds with , “Uh huh” but I take what I can get. I miss her.

I am utterly content. I sit in my chair and knit. Wayne is now  piddling in the kitchen, making me a plate of deer sausage, cheese and crackers. It’s all a form of bribery to convince me to help him with his homework. We both know I will, but I let him make me the snack anyways.

I think about my worship time in His house this morning. He was there, and everywhere at once, so says Pastor Andy. I think He enjoyed our singing.  I picture Him, as the rafter of the building open and like a rocket, our praise is shuttled through the clouds across the galaxy and into His very presence. He smiles. At the very same time, He is among us. As He fills Pastor Andy, and His very words flow out of Andy’s mouth he simultaneously opens my ears and heart to receive those words. He whispers their deep meanings into my spirit. Everywhere and all at once. A wonder.

So we eat our snacks of deer sausage and cheese.  We move to the kitchen table where like every other night, we talk about phrases and clauses, commas and verbs. Ginny finds her way into the kitchen and discovers the pan of brownies that just came from the oven. She smiles and take a huge piece.

I smile too, because I am blessed. I remember then what Pastor Andy said this morning, “It’s not the big celebrations that matter as much as the small acts.” And this is true on a quiet Sunday night.

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