One Sunday, I sat in the back row behind a young family. I was overjoyed at getting to know them as adults since I taught the mom in fourth grade (we won’t even discuss how many years ago that was and how old I feel). My favorite part of the service was making silly faces with their little one and watching her respond.

One week, however, she hammed it up. Prancing around with her daddy’s sunglasses barely on her nose, she made silly faces at me and my husband. Using Mommy and Daddy as her shield, she leaned out and flashed her sweet smile throughout the morning songs. When the praise band sang the chorus, “And I throw up my hands and praise you again and again,” those little hands raised in the air, and a smile flooded her face.

Praise Up

I watched those little fingers twist and move with the rhythm of the music. The scene resonated with my soul. In my mind, I remembered Daniel’s little arms in the air, and God brought a sweet truth to my soul. Little ones are used to reaching up with their hands for help from a bigger person. It’s natural for them to raise them high.

Let us lift up our hearts and hands to God in heaven.

~Lamentations 3:41 ESV

The reality hit my heart. When did I stop lifting my hands to my Father for help? Why did I take the reins of control and forget that hands in the air isn’t a weakness but instead a sign of surrender? When did I start thinking I had everything figured out and stop leaning on God for help?

A smile always forms when I think of small children with their hands up in the air. Not a care in this world aside from enjoying the moment.