Right now, Kari Jobe is less than a mile away from my house. (I could literally put on my running shoes, and be at her hotel. Not that I’ve thought about it or anything.) But she might as well be across the country. Tonight thousands will flock to our city’s arena and hear her sing and lead tremendous worship
–but not me.
Why, you ask? Because of barking.
Last night around midnight, I heard barking across the hall.
It was my daughter, it was Croup.
When I pulled out last year’s humidifier from our hall closet…it looked like it was hit with the Black Plague. (That was disappointing.) In a flash, my husband was gone to buy a new one. Meanwhile, I lay with her next to me in our bed, pulling her warm, feverish body close to mine. “Shhh,” I whispered. “It’s okay.”
My husband must have bought an industrial grade model. Because let me tell you, it felt like a SWAMP in our bedroom last night. I swear I felt raindrops at one point as the whole water cycle was happening in our bedroom. I mean, it was thick in there.
But she could breathe.
And that’s all that mattered.
This morning, as she and I stayed home from church, I popped in a live DVD performance of Bethel Music’s, “You Make Me Brave.” And who should appear on the stage, but Kari Jobe. “Ah!” I thought, “I could be seeing her tonight!”
But alas. Here we were. Her in her pajamas, and I in my sweats. In a steamy house. Steamy like the fog that was wafting on the stage where Kari Jobe was singing on the TV screen, steamy like the arena where she would be singing tonight.
But as we watched…Selah, my daughter, got up and started dancing. And I started dancing, too. Together, in our steamy house, we started dancing, and singing, and jumping, and laughing, and I held her hands swung her around in wild, dizzying circles, while she let out a high-pitch squeal at the top of her lungs. And Kari Jobe was belting it out from the TV, and so was I. And no one was watching.
And here in this place, here my sweatpants, I suddenly didn’t mind missing the rock show tonight. The glory of God came down, right in our living room. Selah laughed, and I cried–because God is good, and God is here, and God is enough. And just to be here, in his presence, together, like this–is enough. More than enough.
Being a mom: I may miss out on some of the glamour, but none of the glory.
“Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.” Genesis 28:16