Last Saturday night I spent most of it tossing and turning and finally getting re-acquainted with my dinner. Consequently, I wasn't able to join my brothers and sisters in worship. By about 10:00 I felt enough better to officiate at a funeral and assist with a second one, but I still missed worship.
This morning I was back, and it felt so good. Praising God is always good, but praising God on the upright bass is nothing short of absolute delight for me. It's a good thing God isn't as interested in our expertise as he is our integrity and enthusiasm, because I make plenty of musical mistakes. Fortunately, the bass' low frequencies have a tendency to mask my wrong notes, and in spite of a bunch of them, I worshipped with my fingers this morning and reveled in the fellowship that has so often fed my soul. It was good, and I am grateful.