It is our family day, reserved for us, for rest and joyful practice...hikes, soil in our hands from the backyard, warm dinners, long hours together.
I loved this Sunday in particular...another storm blowing through in the middle of the night, leaving behind fresh blankets of snow up above, and clean crisp air in the cool morning. Taking the time to walk with them, proud to see their legs carry them up switchbacks, over rocks and little rivulets, straining to climb up on their own, then laughing as they tumble around on slippery ground. Watching unbridled enthusiasm for holes in the ground, oak trees, calling birds, people on bikes, mud flats.
It feels like worship, when these moments happen. I can feel the blessing of it slide over my shoulders and wrap warmth around my heart just as the morning sun does. I feels like the most authentic worship I know right now.
And I think I might be more inclined to go to Church if they held it on a wide open fire trail while the congregation hiked together.