(Yes, okay, it's Monday. I didn't get to this yesterday, but it was still on my mind.)
Deep in the trenches of mothering little people, I understand the concept of bending down to help those who cannot help themselves more than I ever could have pre-parenthood. This line, from Keith Getty's Holy Child, struck me in a new way yesterday:
Glory kneels to mend all that is torn.
Glory. King of kings, Lord of lords, robed in splendor and majesty.
Kneeling, like I do every day, every hour, to change diapers and wipe tears and re-attach Duplo pieces and guide little hands full of puzzle pieces.
To cleanse our sinfulness. To wipe tears and repair hearts and guide little sheep wandering far.
It's quite something.
Deep in the trenches of mothering little people, I understand the concept of bending down to help those who cannot help themselves more than I ever could have pre-parenthood. This line, from Keith Getty's Holy Child, struck me in a new way yesterday:
Glory kneels to mend all that is torn.
Glory. King of kings, Lord of lords, robed in splendor and majesty.
Kneeling, like I do every day, every hour, to change diapers and wipe tears and re-attach Duplo pieces and guide little hands full of puzzle pieces.
To cleanse our sinfulness. To wipe tears and repair hearts and guide little sheep wandering far.
It's quite something.
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