Play

 “I remember these things clearly because that was how my mother loved you, not through white lies and constant verbal affirmation, but in subtle observations of what brought you joy, pocketed away to make you feel comforted and cared for without even realizing it.”

― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

Last night we had the privilege of watching one of Peanut's friend's perform in the Fall Drum Showcase. She was amazing and definitely a stand out of the evening.

For the record, two tylenol should be handed out at the entrance with the program when you give kids who have been playing drums 11 weeks access to a full drum set.

Or maybe I'm just old.

Somewhere mid recital, a young boy took the stage to perform his piece.

You can easily find the parent of each child as they are now the ones frantically opening their camera app to film.

I spotted his mom and dad two rows in front of me.

Mom filmed the performance. Getting a second hand view of it as she watched the phone screen watch him play.

Dad never took his eyes off the stage.

From two rows behind, I could see the ear to ear pure pleasure smile across Dad's face.

Pride.

Joy.

Unbridled love.

It was moving on many levels.

I watched the boy who concentrated completely on each move and never saw the look on Dad's face.

I was moved to tears at the moment.

I wondered how often I remember to be so fully in the moment that my eyes aren't lifted off my children?

That I see a moment first hand and not through the phone screen or camera lense.

In the same evening, I would watch my own mother watch her grand daughter dance with such joy and enthusiasm that she would be moved to tears while carrying that same smile.

Pride.

Joy.

Unbridled love.

This month of November I've been challenged to light a candle daily and for just a moment to pause and be thankful.

For the big, the small, the mundane. The silly, the heart felt.

A call to shift my heart to a position of gratitude.

As I lit my candle today and was earnestly thankful for last night for many reasons, I was most thankful for the father's smile toward the boy drummer.

For it reminded me of what the face of God must look like when He looks at each of us.

This father didn't see the missed notes or the wrong sequence. He didn't hear anything off beat.

He only saw HIS child giving HIS best as he'd been asked.

Mama Warriors, maybe you, like me, are quick to focus on your stumbles. Your missed notes.

We are reminded that our Heavenly father does not ask for perfection, but rather obedience.

As you mother, as you serve your community, as you love your neighbor, you are not called to be a perfect performer.

You are simply called to play.