When the Spirit Says "Shout!" . . .

For the last week or so, when I awaken in the morning, I am singing the Doxology. (Only in my head, thus far; not sure what my husband’s reaction would be if I were to start warbling in his ear at 6 AM!) That song is as familiar to me as my image in a mirror, but it’s never been a particular favorite. Suddenly, though, its words seem glorious and essential:

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!  

Praise Him, all creatures here below! 

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host! 

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

My communication with God has always been more about thanksgiving than petition. I frankly believe He gives us way more than we deserve, so I’m constantly saying thank you—for the incredibly beautiful tulips I saw in Chicago recently. . . for the fact that my sons have reached adulthood in one piece and without undue harm . . . for my comfortable home, good health, and beloved friends. I do ask for guidance on a regular basis, but I hold back on special requests—thinking, perhaps, we might get only so many in the course of a lifetime.

To suddenly wake daily with a praise song on my cerebral tongue is a new experience, though, and causes me to wonder what has triggered this need to more effusively praise my Lord. There’s been no miracle, no disaster, no upheaval or resolution. At this point in my life, one day is pretty much like the next, so why this mysterious flood of gratitude emanating, apparently, from my subconscious?

I wish I knew. Could it be simply another new milestone in being older and wiser? Thus far, aside from the incessant need for reading glasses and the inability to cram quite as much into my days, the positive aspects of being over 40 (okay, over 50) vastly outnumber the negative. Perhaps I’ve just finally become aware of how many blessings flow daily from the Lord into my life. The beautiful birds that gather outside my office window . . . the network of creative, funny, wonderful people with whom I get to interact every day . . . the fresh eggs and vegetables that result from my husband’s hobbies . . . the words I read and write that bring such pleasure to my soul . . .

Truly, nothing good in life happens of our own volition; to arise singing praises to God is as it should be. So I’m fine if my newly enlightened (for whatever reason) self keeps up the early morning exaltations; in fact, I may see if my subconscious can work in a little brass and percussion. After all, Psalm 150 says, “Praise Him with the sounding of the trumpet . . . Praise Him with loud clanging cymbals . . . Praise ye the Lord!”

Selah! (And thank you to my son Jaron for his visual interpretation of my melodious dreams!)