10,080 minutes in a week.
1,440 minutes in a day.
But every week there is one specific minute I love the most.
Just sixty seconds.
We all gather in the hallway outside of the sanctuary conversing about different things. Everybody is talking to each other, smiling, nodding, and laughing.
The praise team members, the choir members, Marion and my Dad.
But I don't speak, because I like to listen.
Not really to any particular conversation, but to the complete sound of everybody talking at once. Hearing a quiet laugh followed by a booming one, no doubt coming from one of the men who sing bass. But also cheerful whispers coming from one corner. The collective sound as a whole just makes me smile. But we're not to the best part yet.
The sixty seconds start when we all circle around the hallway and join hands, awkwardly stuffing our music folders beneath our arms. We bow our heads and then my Dad will pray.
It only lasts sixty seconds, if even that long.
But standing there in the hallway, with our hands joined and heads bowed in silence while every other person in the church is walking in the door or finding a seat, there's just something about it.
Taking that short amount of time to pause in prayer in preparation for worship and singing, and doing it collectively as a group brings me this unique joy.
It only happens once a week.
And it only lasts sixty seconds.
But one minute of time taken to pray with these dear people...
And all I can do is wait for the next sixty seconds.