We cry homey

It is a beautiful day here in western Washington, so Luke and I headed to a nearby park to play (in our shorts and t-shirts, I add giddily). Luke was drawn to a little boy and his dad playing baseball, so we watched for a few minutes until his two-year-old mind moved on to follow a boy on a scooter.

In those moments, I felt myself going down the road of worry that Luke may not be able to enjoy sports the way this boy at the park could. His dad was talking to another man and said, "You should see him hit a golf ball!" It wasn't boastful, just normal parental pride.

I've thought a lot about why it causes me sadness to think about Luke being limited in sports. I think it boils down to the fact that I don't want Luke to face any limitations he doesn't place on himself. This feels like he's got two strikes against him even before he gets up to bat. (Baseball at the park, opening day of Mariners' season ... my baseball analogy couldn't be helped!)

It's funny. A majority of the time, I am able to reconcile this possible limitation with the fact that Luke is here and healthy and happy. But there are those moments ...

So what did God do?

As we were driving home from the park, Luke asked for a particular song on my iPod by Jimmy Needham. The song title is "Regardless" but the chorus includes a line that says, "We cry holy, we cry holy."

From the backseat I hear, "Play music. We cry homey!"

Instantly my pity party dissolved. Here I have this son who wants to listen to praise music, who makes me laugh, who refocuses my thoughts away from myself and onto the Goodness of God.

And we cried "homey" all the way home.