on surviving devotions

I wish you could have been with us during family devotions this morning. No, not because it was glorious, but because it was gloriously normal.

Picture big brother egging on grumpy-I-just-woke-up little sister. Picture baby throwing everything on the ground frustrated that we haven't started coloring yet. Picture Mommy straining to read and play "O Come Thou Fount" wondering WHY ON EARTH the hymn writers had such an aversion to any key with less than three flats.

Picture all three kids now making faces at each other while we all sing sentences like, "Come Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy grace." Picture Daddy wrestling a wrangled baby while Jonathan reads the Bible and Keona moans because Daddy wasn't able to carry her downstairs like normal due to his swollen knee. Picture Daddy, praying over each of us with words that are barely audible over Louie's shrill squeals. Picture Dad and Mom feeling like they just finished running a marathon as we all say, "Amen" and head into the kitchen for breakfast.

And picture God smiling over this noisy, untidy, glorious offering of real life.