“And should we die before our journey’s through,
Happy Day! All is well!”
Kind of strange, right?
That’s how the last verse of one of our hymns begins. “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” it’s called. We sang it today in church and, though this hymn isn’t my favorite, that line always touches me.
Matthew was in the hall with Jack, letting him crawl around, so it was just me and Ella in the chapel. The last verse began and all of a sudden, I have my three year old crawling into my lap and resting her head on my shoulder. Ella is a ball of sweet and untamed energy, so she is rarely in anyone’s lap. But as I gathered her close in my arms and sang with the congregation, I actually started to tear up a little bit.
She doesn’t know anything about death or journeys or facing trials. All she wants in life is a full sippy cup, a tutu, and her dad’s full attention. And listening to this song, meant to remind us to face our trials with joy, I was so grateful that she’s still a child.
I’m really lucky that I get to experience childhood on both sides. First, being a kid and all the fun and magic that was provided for me by my parents. And now, as a mom, I get to be immersed in childhood again. I tell the stories and make believe. But on this side I get to appreciate it more than Ella does because I know just how good it is and that it ends.
I don’t know why she crawled into my lap at that moment, she might have just been sick of being quiet or tired from getting up early. But I held her really tight and sang the words in her ear. Childhood ends but I’m so, so grateful that motherhood never does.
Happy Sunday, everybody.