The Truth Will Set You Free

So last night along with over 11 million others, we tuned into the Celebrity Traitors final and it did not disappoint. TV Gold! As we all gathered around the TV, it reminded me of childhood moments where we would eat our dinner on wicker edged trays in front of the tele, for a night of Gladiators or You've been framed or even more recently, Ant & Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway. In a fast paced world where we can binge a whole series at the touch of a button, where we can skip the adverts, or swipe to something more entertaining, it was really nice to have to wait for something. Explaining to the kids that this was what it was like in the olden days when we were young, just brings them to despair.

As I mentioned in my previous blog post, our youngest hasn't been staying up to watch it with us. She has played catch up the following day, so I can talk into it or skip the Wailing Banshees. Apparently last night, she heard us scream and shout at the television while she was in bed (with good reason, I might add). This morning she watched it before school, because she didn't want to hear the result elsewhere. I watched her as she watched the drama unfold, making the same comments and assumptions that I had made the night before. Then the moment for the red or green flames came. That 3rd green flame popped onto the screen and she gasped, leapt out of her seat and grabbed her face. Then silence, as she stood in shock wondering how this had just happened. It reminded me of when I first watched Frozen; a friend of mine watched me as it was revealed that Hans wasn't in fact a love interest, who finished Anna's sandwiches. He was indeed, in every sense a traitor. 

As we gathered my youngest's bags together for school, she honed in on Alan's tears. Why had he got so upset? Hurrah, I love it when TV throws up questions and ponderings that I can answer with a Biblical framework. I asked her how she felt when she knew she was lying to me or to dad. She said she was unsure what the feeling was but it was in her belly and she wanted to put her head in the pillow and cry. There is, or at least should be, something quite unsettling about lying and deceiving people. This is what Alan's tears were about. The game had made him lie to people, lie about people, and hurt friends even. He had to throw them out of a game they were enjoying, not quite a literal stab people in the back but emotionally pretty much so. The game required him to push the blame, talk about people, cause people to doubt, trick people and see one of them put in a coffin. A lot to shoulder personally, but brilliant to watch.

Carrying that level of deceit was a burden for him. I guess in a way, it spoke of Alan's character outside of the show, the fact that it upset him that much to lie to people and deceive them. We have all been on the recieving end of betrayal or lies spoken about us. It's a horrible feeling, and Alan was the one having to do that. Even in a game format, with his humour, great jackets and witty comments, that was a heavy weight to bear. We often speak to the kids about telling the truth, because lies break relationship. We use Lego to talk about the effect of lies. When Lego is put together it builds something beautiful, something cool, fun and strong which is what we hope for with our relationships with our kids. When there is deceit and lies, it breaks that beautiful thing. We break the Lego at this point to show the point visibly. Thankfully both Lego and trust in relationships can be re-built. (Not all relationships can or should be rebuilt of course, but forgiveness of betrayal is a healthy aim and an antedote to bitterness).

I told my youngest that Alan in that moment, was finally able to share the burden he had been carrying and say sorry for it. He was able to be honest and truthful which came as a huge relief to him. The remaining faithfuls had to somehow process their own dealings with betrayal whilst comforting their friend, and reminding him it was a game well played I shared this Bible verse with her; "...you will know the truth and the truth will set you free". John 8v32. I spoke about how telling the truth especially after a previous lie, brings freedom. In this case, the Bible verse beforehand is actually talking about knowing God's word, knowing the Bible, and living according to it. This is the truth which brings freedom. Freedom from the burden of

 sin, freedom from death, freedom from condemnation, freedom from the law. I guess that is what I was aiming to do when I brought Biblical truth to my youngest this morning. It's also the reason that her name means Truth. We want nothing less for her. 

100% Faithful

I recieved an email notification saying that someone had commented on one of my blog posts. I was keen to see who I had encouraged, who I had passed some wisdom onto, who was grateful for my writing and keen to tell me how I had blessed them. I was quickly humbled when I saw that the comment was from a company asking if I needed an affordable reliable toothbrush supplier in India. They had clearly not even read the blog post, and I clearly do not need to bulk order toothbrushes in India. 

This wasn't even my most humbling moment with the blog. I was once at a Christian ladies conference, where the guest speaker had said how encouraging and thought-provoking she had found my blog to be. It was a blessing to her as she read it in the early hours of the morning with a little one in arms. Wow! In the break at said conference, someone informed me that they didn't get what all the hype was in regards to One Pink Toothbrush. They actually found the posts quite boring and reading them had literally caused them to fall asleep. They smiled as they said it, and they meant no offence of course. None taken of course, as I removed the dagger from my back! 

And do you know what that got me thinking about? Traitors! Ha - a tenious link, but one I'm not ashamed to use. I am obsessed as are millions of other people, so it seems. Some people have even been known to dress up as Claudia; the fingerless gloves, the fringe, the eyeliner, the wintery style. A huge round of applause for the casting; actual known celebrities, rather than hopeful wannabes. Even Claudia is in awe; watching well known faces voluntarily dunk those well known faces into wells of cold water. Watching them jump off of bridges hoping that all is still in tact. You've got theatrics, drama, horse-led funerals, Tom Daley's side eye, the big-dog theory, a passionate Scotsman, unlikely friendships, the farting incident, and of course Alan looking conspicuous in everything he says and does. It's TV gold, and we can't even binge it. We've all been forced into weekly viewings, scheduling our diaries, our families, to be available for the next episode. 

One of my daughters watches it the following day as 9pm is a little on the late side for her, and I like to know what is coming up so I know what to skip past. For example, as funny as the Screaming Banshees were, (from the vocalist who recorded them to the legendary Celia copying them) my little one's active imagination would not have allowed her to settle into a restful night's sleep. I want her to engage with the people, the competition and the fun, not the eerily weird, dark element that is a far cry from her usual viewing.

As you know, I do like to bring the Bible into my parenting whenever I can, especially in regards to TV viewing. It's too good an opportunity to waste, but it would have been particularly annoying for the adults I have been watching the series with. They may well have given me the side eye too. So I asked what Biblical themes we could remind ourselves of. We started strong with, "Do not murder". Or more precisely, do not plan someone's murder, while in a green cloak and laughing about it from a tower. We discussed lying to people, lying and gossipping about people, lying and gossipping and causing others to do the same. Ha, there really is a lot in there once you get started. A frequent subject to discuss with the kids is in regards to judging others. As Christians, we may do things differently to others, hold different views on things, but Jesus talks a lot about not judging people. In Traitors, everyone is judging everyone all the time, based on what they see or hear or percieve or thought they heard or previosuly knew about the person, or even how they enter the breakfast room. One judgement that we have collectively agreed on, is that the Faithfuls have been useless at finding Traitors. An easy judgement to make from the comfort of our own sofas.

In the programme, when someone is rewarded with the Sheild, they are protected. Alan can't send them off to their demise as he laughs in the tower. (Brilliant viewing, but makes no sense if you haven't watched it.) The Bible talks about God being our protector, shielding us from evil. The shield of faith is in action when we choose to trust God. Our greatest reward is not through something we have achieved or earned, or dug in our own grave. We have the shield of Protection because of what Jesus has done for us. 

And finally... wait for it... Jesus is 100% Faithful. It's cheesy but it's true. 

Not so much in the celebrity version of this show, but usually the contestants are stating how faithful they are. They are completely faithful, utterly faithful. They are 100% faithful. They are the most faithful that has ever been faithful. They swear on their mums. They swear on their kids (which coincidentally is another Biblical topic to look into). Some of them are indeed faithfuls as they say these things. And some of those swearing to be faithfuls, aren't even faithful at all. Maybe they are 'Faithful to the Traitors' as Jonathan Ross wonderfully declared. Are any of them truly, completely faithful? Can any one of us say that we are? Think about your favourite faithful from this current series; (mine was the passioante Scot) they will have still got things wrong in their lives. They will have let people down, maybe even hurt them. Pretty sure they haven't mudered anyone. But just like you and me, there will be stuff... the sin, the bagagge, the regrets, the pain, the betrayal. What they need, what we all need is someone who has not one blemish to their name, one who was actually murdered, who stood in our place, a sinless Saviour; one who is unchanging, true to His word and keeps all His promises. One who is the ultimate Faithful.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness". Lamentations 3v22-23

POV

Perspective is a wonderful thing. Me and the husband are about to embark on a new adventure, which feels massive, huge, far too big, painful and a little ridiculous even. We are packing up our home, taking on the task of cross-cultural mission, and moving to Surrey! In some ways it's really not too big of a difference. We are moving an hour and a half away (an hour and 15 if the husband is driving). We are moving to a similar church to the one we are leaving, with a great kids ministry, a vibrant youth work and a heart for the poor. Schools with uniforms, streets with houses, a local football team and a Primark. 

Some of the differences feel too hard to comprehend - no seaside, no students and no Lidl. I mean, what a test of faith that will be. Do I go over to the other side, and embrace Aldi or is Waitrose the new me? (Spoiler alert - no. No it's not quite). 

From my point of view, leaving two or three sons and their gorgeous ladies behind is quite big. Familiy dinners will no longer be all of us together, twice a week. My heart breaks a little when I dwell on this, so we will move swiftly past it. Leaving the church that we have been part of for nearly 25 years also sits on the fairly big side of things. Reflecting back on all God has done; friendships made, lives lived together, services led, meetings hosted, preaches crafted, griefs grieved, joys celebrated. Leaving the community that we have raised our kids in for the last 20 years is also on the bigger side of things. The friendly nods, the 'stop and chats' at the middle park or at Mulberrys, the snow-day sledges, the wrongful arrests, the kids growing up, Dave's music box, and the sense of just being known. Saying Goodbye to the Primary school after 17 years was quite emotional last week. 

And packing up our wonderful home, ah that will pull on the ol' heart strings. If I had a pound for every mug of tea enjoyed at my kitchen table, a pound for every pair of trainers we have gone through, for every friend who has popped in, for every teenager who has been welcomed, for every Lego model we have made, for every cold compress applied, for every head injury sustained, for every play fight gone wrong, for every Weetabix eaten, for every dish dropped, for every doll dressed, for every football lost, for every movie watched, for every meal served, for every dummy hidden, for every laugh had, for every Bible story told, for every dance-off had, for every game won, for every vegetable not eaten, for every sock stolen, for every time the table was extended, I'd be a rich lady indeed.  

And that is what perspective brings. From my point of view, I am rich, abundantly rich in every blessing there has been in this home, in this church, in this community. I have known of God's goodness, His faithfilness, His provision. I have so much to be grateful for. I am moving from one place of security to another. I am free to worship God and proclaim him. My children are safe, the ones coming with us and the ones staying. I am not crossing the Red Sea or living in the Wilderness. I am not living in fear. I am trusting the God of the past, the present and the future. From my point of view, to be adventuring with Him is the best thing any of us can do.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are yiur ways my ways" declares the Lord. "As the Heavens are higher than the Earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts". Isaiah 55v8-9

Think About It

I have just got back from a couple of days at a conference. The conference was called Think. This is partly of course, because it really stretches your mind, gets the ol' grey matter working. But thankfully for me, I like to think it is called Think, because someone else has done a lot of the thinking for me. Hurrah! A dear friend of mine runs the conference, and despite him calling me names from the stage, (a sign of endearment on his part) he did and usually does do, a splendid job of communicating. 

He is one of those people who provokes you to use the word spendid in a blog post, because you want to better your language skills around him. He is one of those people who can communicate some mind-baffling Biblical concepts in a way that doesn't make you feel stupid, (even if you have to look up some of the words he is using*). And boy does he use a lot of words, which I know is rich coming from me! He is one of those people who can engage the cleverest mind in the room, as well as those people who use the word cleverest in a sentence. He is one of those people who does all the thinking, in order to get you thinking, about what God was thinking. Ultimately he takes you from thinking about Jesus, to being full of awe of our Lord and Saviour.

It is always wonderful when you see someone in their lane, doing the thing that God created them to do. And do you know what I kept thinking about at the Think conference? His mum. I met her, she's lovely. There must have been a period of time where this man as a young boy, would have listened to his mum read the Bible to him, explain the gospel to him, teach the meaning of Righteousness to him, explore the Scriptures with him, model forgiveness to him, sing cheesy christian songs with him. I'm not sure if her repertoire included building Jericho out of wafer biscuits, like mine does, but I bet she got him to dwell on higher things. I bet she got him to think.

A mother running in her lane, doing the thing that God created her to do, is a most splendid thing indeed. To communicate Biblical concepts to a child, to let them know that God knows their name, that He created them, He loves them, He sent His son to die for them, He forgives them, He has plans for them, He thinks about them, is no small thing. Do we always feel like it, no. Do we feel qualified, no. Do we have the energy, no. Do they ask unanswerable questions, yes. Are we riddled with guilt when we don't, yes. 

But do we want them to think about greater things, which lead them to being filled with awe? Yes, we most definately want that for them. 

Jesus' own mum had quite the response to being told what was in her lane, the task set before her. "I am the Lord's servant" she worshipfully said. There are aspects of mumming which we may not have seen coming when we first thought about it. In hindsight, we can but wonder what it was even like, to be the Saviour of the world's mum. Likewise, I am quite certain that my clever friend's mum raised her eyes Heavenward at times and said, 'really, this one'. But with God's help and grace, we do our bit. We say 'Yes Lord, I will be your servant, I will teach this little one about you. I will get them to think about it, and I will trust the rest of it to you'.

*Polyvalent - (adj); having multiple meanings, functions, or forms; capable of being interpreted or applied in various ways, depending on content.

**Kipper - as in Yom Kippur, the day of Atonment. Not Kipper the fish or Kipper the dog. (Some people ask silly questions at these events. Me - I am some people).

Shut Your Mouth

We have started another round of teaching a child to drive. We do some off road sessions to get the basics across the line. 'Yes you need to put the clutch down with your left foot whilst changing gear with your left hand, whilst steering with both hands, with your right foot on the accelerator, as the left foot comes up whilst checking your mirrors, in a very obvious way'.

Each time they look at us, blink a few times and ask us to explain it again. I wonder if this is a key moment when teenagers allow themselves to think their parents might actually know a thing or two. Not admit it out loud of course, but at least wonder if it could be true. With the basics understood, they then have a few lessons with a professional, and we aim to take them out on the road as much as possible so they can gain experience.They get helpful teaching when their dad is out with them, whereas when they're out with me, I simply enjoy the side by side time with them. (Helpful hint; at first they think a steering wheel turns a car the same way Mario or Luigi turn a Kart on a virutal track; one swift move rather than 'feeding the wheel through' and therefore the McDonald's drive through is not the one for those early days. That was a fun one to explain to the husband!) 

Before I go out in the car with them I give them a little pep talk. I have 30 years driving experience. I do know more than you. The fact that I know more than you will annoy you. You will panic at some point. You will stall multiple times. You will blame me. You will probably raise your voice at me. I will probably have to grab the wheel at least once. I will mostly stay quiet. If I raise my voice it will be to say 'stop the car'. I am not the enemy. I am for you. After the drive your adrenaline will be up. You will think you hate me but you actually don't. We will exit the car and we will still be mum and son. Naturally they suggest that this will not happen at all, until they find themselves shouting at me because I made them stall the car. 

I guess over the years I have learned a thing or two about dealing with teenage sons. I'm sure some of it is similar to raising teenage daughters, I just don't know that yet. I'm sure it will be a wonderful, possibly emotional, rollercoaster over the next few years as I find out. Watch this space. Send help! But so far with teenage boys, apart from making sure they are full of carbs, my number one tip would be to keep my mouth firmly closed.

My mother in law helpfully told me once that us mums are to be like rubbish bins. We are to be available for our kids to offload all their rubbish, get rid of all their yuck out of them and onto us. All that rubbish inside isn't healthy for them.They need to safely off-load onto us, but to note, not 'into' us. We mustn't take it personally. Oh but we so often do. Their words, their tone, just their lack even can wound us mums in ways they might never understand until they have children of their own. It's imperative that we don't hold onto all that yucky stuff. All that rubbish inside isn't healthy for us either. We have to offload it to our Heavenly Father. He can take it. The Psalms model perfectly to us, that we can rant and off-load and question and accuse. The Father models perfectly to us how to listen with grace and kindness, patience and love. 

It was (and is) a slow lesson for me to learn, not taking their off-loads personally. Realising maybe they feel safe enough to pour it all out in our direction. Maybe it's even a little test to see if we will still be there, still love them, still accept them, still be kind to them, still show them grace. The better moments for me seem to have been when I have managed to 'bite my tongue', or to keep it simple, shut my mouth. When I have swallowed hard, not responded, let them rant. When I have just been the bin-man as it were. Sure, I may well have gone into my room to cry or ranted a 'how dare they' at a friend or at their dad but if it's not been at them, then that for me has been a win! Maybe the situation will be brought up at another time. Maybe it will be spoken into. Maybe it will just be left. There have been moments when my mouth has failed me, failed to phyically close and instead 16yr old me has come out to take them on, meet them at their level with pointing fingers and voices raised. Not my best moments at all, but always humbling to be able to ask for their fogiveness. And if they have seen it modelled, felt the effects of it, they start to show us some undeserved grace too. 

"Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark." James 3v5

I might throw in an extra verse, because parenting teenagers needs all the truth and help you can throw at it. 

"Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires". James 1v19-20

Fly Away

A few weeks ago, another toothbrush left the pot. 

You would think this would take the pot down to six toothbrushes, but for some reason there has always been more toothbrushes in that pot, than people living in this house. Sometimes it is double the number. It baffles the husband every time he makes them point out which toothbrush is theirs in order to throw the excess ones away. It doesn't change anything. It goes into the mysteries of family life, like odd socks and tupperware lids.

So a toothbrush has gone, as have the Star Wars and Film Lego sets. The record player has gone, as have the guitars. Stitch has gone as have the unique T-shirts. The room is empty, much to the siblings' intrigue as they prepare their motivational speeches about having their own rooms. I watched him pack it all away. Well, I watched him pack away the bits he wanted, the rest he left in a pile or two (or three) for me to sort through. He carefully packaged all the bits that needed to be safely re-homed in our loft, and all the bits that needed to go with him to his new home. 

He actually accidently left home without realising it, and without telling us. It just sort of happened. He thought he was just decorating the new place but ended up staying there. He then called me to say that he may have accidently left home. We landed the call with a plan for him to come home for family dinner so that we could all get a chance to say what we love about him, and say a goodbye of sorts. The husband packed all of his things and some of my memories into the car and drove him off to his new adventure. I went and stood in his room. I closed my eyes. I breathed in the quietness and had a good cry. I needed to feel the empty space, grieve the empty space. It visually and audibly helped me resonate with what was going on in my heart. 

I read somewhere last week that for the most part, we know our children as adults longer than we know them as children. It made sense but it stopped me in my tracks. Of course they are always our children but you don't really even comtemplate that thought when you're smack bang in the middle of the messy years. You're too caught up in the giggles, the chatter, the colour, the chaos, the loose teeth, the open doors, the running, the plastc tat, the early mornings, the car seats, the knee scrapes, the trips to the park, the pack mentality, the tree climbing, the head bandages, the Cheerios, the wet wipes, the noise, the breakages, the muddy trainers, the imaginative play, the same old adventures. Then they're teenagers and maybe their doors are a little more closed. The noise and the chaos come in bursts when they feel safe, happy or mad. Less trees get climbed and their trainers stay clean. The colours tone down. They become individuals. Early mornings get later and later. The chats become less but so treasured. And then their bags get packed, boxes get filled, the space empties and they're off for some new adventures. 

It's both wonderful and awful all rolled into one. You spend your life as a mum, being there for them. You're there when they need you, nurturing them, shaping them, chanllenging and encouraging them, making sure they've got everything they need in order to grow into people who don't need your shaping and nurturing so much. You have to go through the painful bit where they don't think they need you but they desperately do, through to the bit where they actually don't need you quite so much and you need them more than you realise. 

I did a Valentine's activity for the ones still at home and realised there were of course names missing. (One was a bit poorly and didn't fancy chocolate and two have moved out). The mum guilt was there, as it tries to be in all seasons of a mother's life! It was like I had forgotten them, which I hadn't but this verse actually stood as a great encouragement to me.

"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands..."Isaiah 49v15-16

These kids I have been blessed with are not mine to keep, but arrows to be sent out into the world. I can trust that God not only has His eye on them. He's got their names on the palms of His hands. They are His. He knows them. He created them for adventures. He created me for this adventure too.

Off-Peak

So yesterday I took the plunge and joined a gym. Eeek! I'm not really a gym type person. I tend to convince myself that there are so many workouts on-line, I could just do them whenever I want to, which is pretty much never. (Although I would recommend a 20min Beyonce Dance off with your daughters, for the giggles, the moves and the fitness.) There was a deal on, it's near my place of work, it can fit it in with my week, so I went for it. I was fairly relieved when yesterday turned out to be just a tour and the payment schedule. I didn't dare tell them I had a scraped together gym kit in the back pack I was wearing. I went for the off-peak option because it was a) cheaper and b) the gym's 'peak hours' are also home's 'peak hours' so I wouldn't be able to get there then. Besides, being at home between 4pm and 8pm is a different kind of workout. (I think it's called exercising the fruits of the Spirit). 

This morning I had my Induction at 8am. A little bit of me-time at 8am. Of course, first I needed to make sure I could leave the house well. I took the toothbrushes out of the bathroom in order to eliminate the "I'm in the shower" shout to the siblings knocking on the door to use the toothbrushes. I woke one of them up for his first wake up on my way downstairs with the toothbrushes. I took the sandwiches out of the fridge. Like Martha Stewart or some other organised mum guru, I had made the sandwiches the night before whilst watching an episode of Police Interceptors. I had to pre-empt the night-owl teenager that the sandwiches in the fridge are not for him as a late night snack. (Side note: apparently sandwiches are not working for one of them so we're trialing wraps). I leave the sandwiches and wraps out in age order. It's just easier that way. 

I put the kettle on for a hot water bottle for the one who is too sick for school. I got the uniform out of the dryer for the one that needed it washed last night. I leave out Ibuprofen for his sore back. Yes he could go looking for it all, but at 6:45am that's a lot to ask from a teen. I put the cereal on the table and pack the littlest one's lunch. I'm making her go to a buddy's house early so I can go to a stupid gym induction so she wont quite be fully conscious enough to pack her own lunch. I take up the hot water bottle, a snack, a note, fresh water and Calpol for the poorly one and leave it within reach for when she wakes up. (She was prepped the night before that I'd be gone for an hour. She possibly wont even wake until I am back). I do a second wake up of the one who needs waking, and a third with a reminder to get his football gear ready. He can't find his black jeans. I'm pretty sure black jeans are not in the uniform policy but that is his battle with the teachers, not mine. I find his black jeans. And his belt. 

I do the first and second wake up of the littlest who can't believe it's not the middle of the night. It was a whole 15minutes earlier than normal because I had a gym induction to get to. I help her to get dressed. She is of course old enough to get dressed by herself but this morning, mummy is going to help because mummy has some me-time booked in. Thankfully she has plaits in which will last her another non hair-brushing day. I sign her reading record, while getting her sleepy self to choose which cereal she wants. (I assume she has indeed read Tom Gates' Dog Zombies Rule but the teachers can pick that up). I put a washing load on because any sane mother knows that missing one day of laundry creates 7 extra days of laundry. One of them has asked for an early drop off down the road so he can get the bus to work. One of them is poorly in bed. One of them I walk across the road to her buddy's house. One of them I hope gets the bus to school and one I'm not sure what his plans are but I have left a hopeful note about the washing being put away. 

And then I'm off to the gym, off to get a little me-time. I catch a breath-taking sunrise across the sea, and I have a little chat to God. I am reminded of Psalm 113, "From the Rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised". I thank God that there is much to praise His name for. For the abundant household I have just come from, for the gym I don't particularly want to go to, for the joy of the sunrise behind me. 

I read in the gospel of Mark later that day, that after the sunset people had brought all the sick to Jesus to be healed. 'The whole town gathered at the door'. Early the next morning, while it was dark Jesus had left the house and gone to a solitary place to pray. Simon had gone looking for him. He needed Him back because 'everyone was looking for Him'. I am not comparing my ministry at home with Jesus ministry to everyone in Galilee, but I did smile knowing that Jesus sees me and understands me. He knows what the demand is like to a whole other level, and yet He is still always availe to me. There are no off-peak hours with Jesus. Another reason to praise Him before the sun goes down.