There’s More Than One Way To Skin a Worship

While you visit times before

Don’t forget to take your hat

Your gloves, if not on your hands

Belong sedately on your lap.

And while you’re at it in the day

Go to church and pray and sing

And come hell and come what may

Zone out and count the wings.

On all the stained glass windows

And statues of saints and icons

Remember your practiced smile

Keep your eyes on the horizon.

And count the moments and

Watch the clock and fidget

Only a little as your mind refuses

To obey and stay on what the priest said.

Oh yes, now I recall why I stopped

Attending church and counting beads

My attention deficit disorder made

Playing hooky better suit my needs.

When I look up from the vibrant yellow

Of a daffodil budding forth

To the blue sky full of promise

My love of God proudly pours.

Walking through the verdant green

In the forests of the mountains

No closer to Him could I feel

While roar waterfalls rather than fountains.

In my grandbabies faces, deep in their eyes

I see the miracle of creation and life

And in the nursery rhymes and lullabies

I praise Him with all the strength of the tides.

So, yes, church going is mostly my past

And mostly I don’t think He cares

If I worship inside of a building

Just so long as I live like He’s there.

Kathy Adams