This morning, at the end of our Sunday worship, the congregation sang "It is Well with My Soul." Most of you know this old hymn, and who does not love this song? However, I will never experience this song like I did this morning.
Rooke was wide awake through the whole service and he behaved like a champ. During the sermon he sat on my lap and looked around occasionally fixing his eyes on me allowing me some play time. That was beautiful, but it gets better. Rooke is a bit of a wiggler. I guess all babies might be this way, but I don't have experience with other infants. By the time the service was over, he began to get restless and start to wiggle, and when this starts, it is hard to stop him. When we stood up to sing a final song, "It is Well..." I held him in a position that he likes so he can look at the person who is holding him. I placed one hand under his bottom and another hand under his head while I let his legs rest against my abdomen (similar to the picture from Feb. 8, but more directly in front). The congregation began to sing, and Ang and I joined them. Since, we were visiting a neighborhood church this week that meets in a small theater, Angela's voice was not drowned out by the deafening rock-worship we are used to. When Rooke heard his mommy's voice, he turned his head, dropped his jaw and fixed his eyes on her. Through the whole song, he rested in my hands at total peace with his little arms dangling beside him. He just stared at his mom and listened to her worship. Needless to say, I couldn't sing the whole song, but Rooke wasn't interested in hearing me. The five minutes of worship this morning with Rooke in my arms is my best moment of fatherhood since that last push that brought him to us. I have a new favorite hymn. The lyrics are posted below:
It Is Well With My Soul
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Horatio Spafford
