Broken Palms

Just before Easter weekend, in the heat of countless rehearsals and nights spent putting sets together with fellow set builders, I got in the car with my family to head to church. I strapped my two children into their car seats and jumped in the driver seat. My first reaction was to instantly turn on the radio. If you know me, you know that my life has a soundtrack to it and if you get close enough to me, you get to hear it…whether you want to or not. Most days it is the sounds of praise and worship, but the soundtrack of those few weeks had been cries of exhaustion punctuated with the “arghs” of frustration and long hours at work away from my family. (Not complaining, that is just what happens during those times of the year).
As I was reaching for the volume dial, my son held up a little art project that he had made at church the Sunday before. It was a Popsicle stick (how many are your uses, let me count the ways) with his hand prints in green construction paper glued to one end of it. So basically, what we had was some “palms” for Palm Sunday. My son wanted to know if I knew what it was. I said that it looked like the palms that the people waved at Jesus as he came into Jerusalem. He said, I was correct. (I love hearing that from Tucker, because it comes with this almost surprised expression that Daddy is actually that knowledgeable. It makes me feel pretty smart). Anyway, he said, “yeah, but Daddy, did you see that it was broken?” I said, “No, I’m sorry that it is broken.” He then replied, “That’s okay Daddy, it can still praise God.”Well at that moment, you could have knocked me over with a feather. There was a realization in my soul that for the past few weeks I had been kind of broken and my praise was being replaced by whines and cries and complaints. I was not broken in spirit, but just physically, tired, worn out, used…All for God’s glory, but tired none the less. My toes got stepped on that day with that truth out of the mouth of my babe. The soundtrack of my life should have possibly become more dramatic during those times, the worship more intense, but it never should have taken the path it did. When you are going through the trials of life; when you are exhausted and at your wits end over your to do list, I beg of you that even in your brokenness, praise God with what little strength you do have.