Early Sunday Morning

My choir robe hangs from the top of my bedroom door, stretching like a white river almost to the doorknob. A sight to see!

Troy steps out of his room cool as you please in his suit and tie, looking just like Daddy when he takes Mommy out dancing. He giggles when he sees me twirling in my fancy dress.

[…] When our youth choir marches through the doors, every eye is on us. We float down the aisle like an army of angels, lifting our voices in praise all the way up to the rafters. And right there at the end of the pew is Mommy, smiling and singing and waving her fan.

[…] I lift my voice and sing with the might of the angels- just like I do when I’m alone in my room dancing in front of my mirror, and when Daddy is singing alongside me, too.

And the church shouts, “Amen!”