Music is a powerful thing. It really really is. Most days I pop in the Pandora and our house is filled with all varieties of music from Tchaikovsky to Casting Crowns to Seeds. My favor tends to lean towards the traditional country hymn station though.
Evidently I'm the only person under the age of 50 that really loved growing up in a small Southern Baptist Church and my taste in worship music reflects that.
My mama, Aunt Connie and Uncle Bobby will still randomly break out into hymns in perfect three part harmony when they are together. I cannot count the hours I spent at my Papa's house listening to Blue Grass Gospel music.
The other day the fiddles started humming and a peppy version of Blessed Assurance floated through my kitchen the Bug started dancing in her chair. This is a very normal occurrence around here and she loves Blue Grass Gospel too.
I, however, was overcome. In that moment I could feel my Nanny and Papa's sweet smiles on me and my child. I'm know they are busy gazing into the face of Jesus in Heaven, but I also know watching their great grandchild sway to some Jesus glorifying fiddle music would have warmed their hearts.
I scooped my Bug out of her chair and we danced. We stomped our feet, clapped our hands, and spun in crazy circles all over the kitchen.
We danced because I want her I have the same happy memories that I have. We danced because I believe worship can come in a lot of different ways, but it must come from our heart. We danced because it was plan ole fun.
I'm so blessed to pass down a sweet legacy to my babies and I hope Jesus has fiddles in Heaven!