When you can't find the words

What does a day filled with sun, swimming, and hungry bellies waiting for dinner add up to? 

Lots of tears. Screams.  Fits. Gnashing of teeth. 

Don't you wish you could have been a guest at the Gerber's tonight?
Consider yourself lucky.

As we sat down at the spread table with my wailing babe, and hands were extended towards one another to grasp for grace (quite literally, from my perspective), we sang.

"I can't sing!" cried the droning bass. "I can't sing."

As I held his little hand in mine, through his sputtering and gasping, I whispered,
"It's okay.  You don't have to.  We will sing for you."

I didn't really even give these words much thought as they escaped my lips, until after they touched the wind. Everyday sacred.  Here it is.  Even in the mess. Especially in the mess.

In the dark, in the hopelessness, in the fear...
when God seems to be nowhere in sight, or exhaustion runs so deep--where even breathing seems labored...

Let us sing for you.

The power of God's people.  Holding for you--for me, when things seem to be too much.  Keeping faith, when it is hard to find, as long as needed. 

I continue to think back on this dinner interchange time and time again tonight. And find myself moved at the depth of these words. This truth.

I've experienced the singing community. As has my family.  And I have had the honor of singing for others.

So wherever your find yourself today, well-fed and nourished; or pit-empty and aching, know there is a place for you at the table.

There is always a place at the table--after all, isn't that what family is all about? 
You bring the good, bad, and ugly.

And it is at this Table, that we hold hands and say grace.

 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought,

but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

~Romans 8:26