I Can Worship Anywhere

From Praise Anthem...arranged by Tom Fettke...based on Psalm 8

When I gaze into the night skies and see the work of your fingers:
The moon and stars suspended in space.
Oh, what is man, that you are mindful of him?
You have given man a crown of glory and honor,
have made him a little lower than the angels,
You have put him in charge of all creation:
The beasts of the field, the birds of the air,
The fish of the sea.
But what is man, oh, what is man that you are mindful of him.
O Lord, our God, the majesty and glory of your name
transcends the earth and fills the heavens.
O Lord, our God, little children praise you perfectly, and so would we.
Alleluia.The majesty and glory of your name
--Linda Lee Johnson

Bad Days. They're as inevitable in my life as Monday's, chocolate cravings and breathing.

Take last Friday for example. I got up and got dressed for work. Just as Lauren and I were walking out of the house, her friend Marisa called and Lauren turned to remind me that the Seniors were headed over to St. Matthew's Preschool to do their class community service project.
I looked at the calender and realized that I too was supposed to be doing a comunity project that day. I rushed back to my room and threw on my oldest jeans, an old shirt and my ratty tennis shoes. I was prepared to play in the dirt....oops! I mean um...pull weeds and get the ground ready to plant something.
On the way to school, another phone call brought news that my project had been rescheduled. I looked down at the way I was dressed and thought uh-oh. I'm in trouble now.
I decided instead of going into the church office looking like last year's yard sale reject, that I'd just go on out to the outdoor classroom site, and pull some weeds anyway. I grabbed a jacket, my cell phone, gloves, truck keys and a 20 ounce bottle of Coke, and off I went.

Last fall, the area had been bush hogged to remove large amounts of underbrush. What little bit that is left, was dead, and came up out of the ground with very little resistence at all. I sat on the edge of the path and pulled up the vegetation, tossing it into a growing pile. Feeling a sting on the back of my hand, I looked down to see about a dozen ants crawling up my left fingers. I quickly brushed them off, and stood up to move out of the ant hill that I'd inadvertantly sat in.

Deciding to give the ants plenty of room, I moved down to pull the dead weeds, that last summer had been closed to 6 feet tall. Brittle stalks with a shallow root system, they came up easily, and I soon had a fairly large area of what will soon be a rose garden cleared. I grabbed for another plant, and screeched as a long thorn penetrated my garden gloves. I nursed the bleeding middle finger of my right hand, and had to laugh as looked down at the ant bite blisters on one hand and the gash on the other one. I went back to work and carefully reached for the plant again. As I eased it back, there between the two sticker bushes was a tiny blue bird nest. It was nestled in the branches of a small tree, that was completely devoid of any greenery.

I took a few steps back and gazed at this work of art. How ironic that this symbol of life was here amongst all the imagery of death. Dead plants, no leaves, no sounds. But wait, there was sound! As i worked around that one tree, continuing to pull the dead plants from the ground, I began to listen closely. Crickets chirped in the wind, a dog barked in the distance, a hawk cried out in the sky, then the rain began to fall gently over it all.

Words to a song from 8th Psalm that we sang in my college choir more than 20 years ago came back to me and I began to first hum, and then sing as I worked. It wasn't long before my bad mood from earlier in the morning was gone. And I was able to stand in the midst of the beauty that God created and truly worship.