Lord, You know that my beach rating — never a 10 — has dropped into negative digits. Still, I love to swim, and I won’t stop. OMG, I’m so glad Jesus loves me, air-brushed or wear-and-tear-brushed!
Oh my God, thank You for gorgeous summer dawns. Here, country mornings exhale a little bit of heaven, the sweet air fresh as if You just created it. But OMG — can’t the sun sleep in a few minutes longer so I can, too?
O my God, You know that early on, patients sometimes kicked my husband and his plaid bellbottoms out of exam rooms: “Too young to be a doctor!” Fast forward 40-plus years — as of today, he’s retired! Lord, neither of us worry about looking too young now. And plaid bellbottoms? No. Way. Still, OMG, walking together with You, we know future days will be groovy.
O my God, when I worshipped in this beautiful place, an out-of-tune bullfrog quartet joined in my songs. They sounded like twangy rubber bands. They didn’t know the words. When I complained, You only smiled and said how much You enjoyed us all. OMG, could it be that your idea of worship and mine aren’t necessarily the same?
O my God, I know ants are Your creatures, too. But the few that appeared in my kitchen last week have invited nine million relatives to stay. OMG, since I don’t speak ant, would You not so kindly inform them that if they don’t leave, eviction will be the least of their worries?
O my God, every morning, my funny, godly, 91-year-old dad sang, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty” to You. But as of last week, OMG, he’s singing to You face to Face.
OMG, You are right, of course. We want our hotel rooms — and our politicians — much cleaner than we are at home.
O my God, some of Your children love to sing loud in church, and I’m one of them. While we know You’re not hard of hearing, we’re glad You’re not nervous, either.
What? … OMG, maybe the people in the pews in front of us are?
Oh, my God, You know that after my first child’s birth, my pastor told me, “Nothing, short of salvation, will change your life like motherhood.” Duh. With my watermelon-sized stomach, hadn’t I been defying gravity? OMG, little did I know that after it flattened—sort of—the real labor began.
So did the joy.
