Susan LaffertyChristmas season. Spent last year in a world-class city. One of our favorites.
All shiny and bright. Perfect lights. Colors on point.
Christmas soundtrack playing continually. In stores. And on the streets. Everywhere.
In an Asian city.
“Just sing to Me.”
Memory rises up. From twenty years ago.
I’m traveling in the river of motorcycles and public transport vehicles. Cars and buses. All pressed together in the rush of a mountain city’s traffic.
Navigating the ebb and flow as I drive. Mentally engaged. But not.
Thoughts drift far away. Heart sits heavy.
All around me, the hum and blare of engines revving, horns blowing, peddlers calling.
Worship. In a small house group, I watch one woman sing with such joy. Tears, even.
Midlife at the time, I’ve fallen into unhealthy patterns. Critiquing content and structure. Or impatience with those leading in services and retreats.
Prideful. And forgetting priority.
Losing focus of the One we worship.
