Hands Up

In the church I attended as a little girl with my family, we did not clap our hands, raise our hands or extend the hand of friendship during services. We were good midwestern farm folks who loved God, loved our neighbors, and loved the land.

I heard there were some places of worship where people shouted and danced and rolled in the aisles. My young mind couldn’t imagine that God approved of such behavior in church.

Most of my worship as an adult has been spent at a keyboard, playing hymns and worship songs. In this new season of life, I suddenly find my hands free and I don’t know what to do with them.

Sometimes I get the urge to clap. Once in a while, I feel compelled to open my palms and raise them up, just a little bit.

Then I read this:

Lift up your hands in the sanctuary and praise the Lord.”
Psalm 134:2

Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.”
Psalm 47:1

“Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.”
Ecclesiastes 9:10

It seems God not only approves, but heartily encourages—even commands—me to do something with my hands. So, I’m learning (albeit a bit self-consciously) how to lift up my hands…

…like a child reaching up to be embraced by my Heavenly Father—

…like a football fan cheering on my team—

…like a friendly wave to my next door neighbor—

… I will seek to be held by the Father,
… I will cheer on the move of the Spirit,
… I will welcome the presence of the Savior.
I will lift up my hands.

“I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands.
Psalm 63:4

The Voices Behind Me

PB and I sit in the second row from the front most Sundays. Our church is out-growing its small meeting space, so we go early to get our seats. And have coffee. And mingle with people.

The worship team always brings its best. We’ve come to expect top-notch musicianship, outstanding vocals, and deeply meaningful worship. They are incredible.

But it’s not the voices singing from the front of the church that move me.

It’s the voices behind me.

Some weeks I come to worship full of joy—
eager and ready to praise.

Some weeks I drag myself in—
bedraggled and beaten down by the world.

Then we start to sing.

The pros in front nail it, but it’s the untrained, slightly off-key notes wafting up from the back rows that stir my soul. Some other people have had a hard week, too. Some are dealing with bad news. Some are grieving loss. Some are questioning their faith. Some are carrying disappointments.

But they sing.

So I sing, too.

God bless
all the voices behind me.

Through Jesus, therefore,
let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—
the fruit of lips that openly profess his name.
Hebrews 13:15

Minus One, Plus One

Grandkid Lineup 2025

Grandkid #2 was home sick, so we were minus one this year. We missed her!

Grandkid #11 is holding a “?”, so we will be plus one next year. We can’t wait!

Twelve tribes. Twelve disciples. The Twelve. The dirty dozen.

Cousin Camp 2025

Eight of the most interesting, entertaining, delightful people in the universe.

Now you know why I needed August Break.

“If I had known how wonderful it would be to have grandchildren,
I’d have had them first.”

~ Lois Wyse