Mother’s Day means child dedications. Child dedications mean I freak out more than I do over any other part of the service. “What if I get the name wrong?” “Everyone is counting on me.” “Even the GREAT grandmother is here!?!?!” “What if I forget the parents’ names?” The stress is nearly insurmountable. Even with practice the names, eve scouting out which parents are which before the service, I end bumble through the names and prayers HOPING that the families feel the least bit honored.
And then we go on with the service. . .
Reconciliation. God making right what we never could, though that certainly won’t stop us from trying. Such a rich and important word always leaves me feeling less-than-adequate to preach. You want a joke? You got it. A story or two? Absolutely. Talk about my failures? I can do that for the next fifteen days without stopping. Try to communicate the great act of God to restore us to him? Hmmm. I don’t know if I can take that on. . .