Go to work; get things done; work through that stack of papers and incoming emails; get off; run to the grocery store or the bank or wherever “the list” takes me; pull in the drive; kiss my man; *pause*; get supper; eat; do the dishes; check the mail; throw away the junk; go upstairs; change; get ready; *sigh* when will this end; grab the keys and my purse and my Bible; get in the car; pull out of the drive; get to church two whole minutes before Wednesday evening prayer service starts…

…sometimes I ask myself, “Is it worth it?”  I’m tired.  I’ve been running all day, no, all week.  Would it not be nice to take that evening and sit on the couch and read a book or, better yet, get something done?

Then I sit there in that pew, The Man’s arm around me.  A line of nieces and nephews perch next to us, drawing on the little offering envelopes.  (Do those things ever get used for their real purpose?)  The church is cool; people are scattered throughout the sanctuary, for these services aren’t packed full like Sunday morning.  We sing a few songs.  Pastor stands up to give a 10 minute sermon.  Then we pass around the microphone and give prayer requests and praises.  Finally, people are through, and we bow our heads in groups of two or three and pray through the list.

Is it worth it?  Is it worth the time?

Sometimes I miss these services, but more often than not when I go, I sit there in sweet peace.  Calm.  Middle of the week, end of the day, and there’s nothing pressing for those minutes.  Soon enough, we rush out to run to Lowes and then to Sonic and then to Caleb’s softball game; we get home at 9:45, go to bed and start the rush again tomorrow.  But those few minutes, with friends and family, I sit there.  I sit.  And I’m reminded that over everything God is.  It’s fine to be busy, as long as you remember to sit once in a while and let God…

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