Something shifted within me. I saw something beyond what I was seeing.
The adorable children were singing on the front steps of the church. There were 13 voices. They captured each note in a way that conveyed the meaning of the lyrics. Their eyes focused Alex as he directed. Their smiles melted me as they finished singing.
The grieving family sat on the front row. The man who had served as the faith mentor to the deceased stood carefully to approach the pulpit. He spoke tenderly about the 12 year old boy he had befriended during Pastor’s Class. He spoke reverently about the pain of loss of a 23 year old son. His compassion for the family reminded me why church is like no other place in all the world.
The gregarious gentleman cheerfully wheeled his chair into place in his suite at the rehab unit. His eyes twinkled as he listened to the visiting communion liturgy led by a newly installed deacon. As the three of us uttered the Lord’s prayer in unison, something holy emerged. A handwritten note arrived just a couple of days later describing how his hip was mending and his soul had been nourished by bread broken.
The 14 year old Somalian boy picked up the guitar and began to pick a few notes. He listened intently to the instructions of a retired Midwestern man. The music bridged the gap of 50 years and 5,000 miles. For a moment they were not rich and poor, haves and have nots but two souls healed
by music.
The church enables me to see what I might not otherwise see, that hope is real, mutual caring empowers us and love becomes flesh. In gratitude to God for these astounding gifts of vision and new life, Dave and I will make an over and above year end gift to the church. I invite you to join us, so all might see and receive God’s grace.
With grace and peace,
-Carla
