Worshiping through love (or why I don’t wear dreads)

Dreads are not a good look for me.

I was reminded of this fact when I  looked through some pictures from my time with the African Children’s Choir.

On tour, I missed worship at my home church. It was draining being constantly on the move, always performing and serving people. I felt drained because I wasn’t worshiping weekly. Then God reminded me of the importance of worshiping where I am. I spent so much time longing for home worship that I was missing the incredible experience that was right at my fingertips.

Once I was able to see that, I was able to embrace my new situation with open arms. I began worshiping God in new ways. My favorite new way to worship was through loving my kids.

I loved those kids like crazy. It’s why I went out on the soccer field as much as I could, even though I could never keep up. It’s why when we found some dress up clothes, I was right there beside them in some goofy mouse outfit. It’s why when they came to hug me in the morning, I would sweep them into my arms, swing them around and squeeze them as tight as I could. Their giggles and squeals of delight made my day.

Do you want to know how much I loved those kids? Here’s proof.

I walked around in public looking like this.

While on our way to Australia, we had a really long layover in Johannesburg. We were stuck in the airport for hours, and the kids did what they always did when they were bored. They attempted to braid my entire head of hair. I think this was the one time they succeeded.

When they were done, the girls squealed in delight and declared how smart I looked. I couldn’t bear to take the braids out after all the time they put into it. So, I walked around the Johannesburg airport with dreads. I even had to lead the kids to the correct terminal, stopping to ask an airport official, “Excuse me, where is gate B12?”

Any parent (or auntie or uncle) has probably had a similar experience. A daddy whose knees are crammed into a plastic table while he sips  imaginary tea with his pinky up (bonus points if he threw in a British accent.) A mommy who had a dance party in the car at a red light. An auntie who walked out in public with the brightest blush and eye shadow she’s ever worn. A grandpa in a light sabre death scene that could win an Emmy.

We do stupid stuff for our kids. Why?

Because we love them like crazy.

And I believe that love is one of the most sincere forms of worship we can ever experience.