Hopeless cases?

SO, there I was in the church balcony on Sunday morning, singing the opening hymn with the rest of the choir - my dear friend Jan next to me. Jan is a military mom also - her son and daughter in law are serving in the Navy. So as we sang, we looked below to the congregation as latecomers took their place in the pews. One of my friends - a proud grandma to a Marine (Nick) who just returned from the sand - came into church and walked to the front, where most of her family - daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren - sit on Sunday mornings with regularity. She looked to the back of the church and the next person Jan and I saw walk in was Nick - looking so handsome in his dress blues. I stopped singing and started crying, giving in to the lump in my throat and the immense pride and thanksgiving for this 19 year old man/child we have so often prayed for on Sunday mornings (and many other times as well). Jan shifted her hymnal to one hand, and wiped the tears from her eyes as well.

So I guess you could say we are hopeless cases. As we laughed and cried at the same time - kindred spirits in this life as military moms - we knew it was ok; knew that if the other choir members noticed, they knew why the tears were flowing and why we couldn't sing that first hymn of praise.

It's ok - God didn't mind. After all, He is the one who put these hearts in us, gave us this path to walk, and brought Nick home safely. No hymn of praise, but hearts full of praise.

Hopeless? Well, maybe Jan and I could be considered hopeless by those who don't know what this roller coaster ride is all about. But always - always - it's our hope in Christ that gets us through. If that's what being a hopeless case is all about, I'm a lifer.

God bless our troops - and those who love them.