purest praise...

I gave Chandler a beaded HIStory bracelet for Christmas this year. I found it at Kirlin's Hallmark and similar I guess to a rosary, each bead is intended to represent an important part of Jesus' life. I gave one to Chandler because I believe God has been drawing his little heart this year and I thought he would appreciate the significance.

Veronica has been sitting by his bed with him at night reciting the gospel story via beads and had previously called to tell me that Harrison at first was a bit irritated with the new ritual and would leave the room or would simply ignore them for a few minutes. After several nights he heard them begin and asked for them to wait until he got back from the bathroom. He then joined them. Needless to say, Chandler has learned the pattern without Veronica's prompting and I hadn't heard anything more about it until yesterday.

She called, as she often does, to share some "cup runneth over" mother moment, and this one made me cry:

Chandler was in the next room playing his blue electric guitar patched into a drum mix on the new pedal we got him for Christmas and singing at the top of his little lungs. She couldn't understand what he was singing at first [he writes songs quite frequently...] and then realized...

he was singing the beads.

How sweet is that. In all my hours of rehearsal, all my perfect planning, all my near perfect performing over the years, is there a purer, sweeter worship in all of time? I can see God gathering the hosts and quieting all of heaven to listen. Can't get much better than that...