I had a clear view of her from my seat. She was beautiful. She glanced around, looked back in my direction. She gave me that look. I smiled. It made my heart sing to see her there.

The organ cranked up prompting all of us to sing. And we did. The words were from Psalm 8.

“Infant voices chant your praise, telling of your glorious ways; weakest means work out your will, mighty enemies to still. How great your name…”

I stood singing, eight pews away from Fiona, a six month old. Tiny. If things would have progressed normally, her birthday would have been two months later than it is. Fiona, born early, tiny and weak… was clinging tightly to her mother. Looking around… smiling…  at me maybe… or filling her diaper…. or beginning to feel a wee bit hungry and getting ready to let her mom know…. Praising God.

How do infant voices chant God’s praise? In Fiona’s case, by God’s grace, surviving her early arrival. And whether it’s pooping, eating, crying or smiling… maybe even at me… by just doing what she was created to do she and the rest of us chant praises to God.  So on that Sunday, from eight pews away, Fiona and Psalm 8, were God’s gift to me.