Tuesday, November 7, 2006

Dearest God,

Yesterday was an extraordinary day. I woke up with anticipation that God would be revealed throughout the day. I wrote my letter to you, walked on the treadmill, got ready for work and started to leave home when I received a phone call. Our dear member Jane had had another stroke, a massive one. I rerouted myself and headed for the hospital.

When I arrived on the fifth floor, I noticed Jane's room door was closed. I opened it and stepped inside. At that moment a nurse saw me enter and came in behind me. "We took out her breathing tube this morning," she told me. "I know, I am her pastor." I responded. "She knows you, doesn't she? Look at the monitor. She knows you are in the room."

I moved to the bed, sat down beside Jane, and put my hand on her arm. A prior conversation with her daughter was running through my head. "Mom suffered a massive stroke. She has no conscious thought. She cannot recover. It could be a few hours, a couple days." I told Jane I was there. And then I told her how much I appreciate her, her faith, her commitment as a political activist in women's rights, and much, much more. I shared some of my favorite scriptures with her. And then I began to sing, hymns that I thought she might enjoy.

Just as I began to sing, Jane started moving her leg, then she took my hand in hers and squeezed it. She held on as I lifted my voice to God. "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound..." Periodically she would squeeze my hand harder. She opened her eyes although they rolled back in her head. "Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the worlds thy hands have made..." I kept on singing. Jane was responding to the music, the message. "In the bulb there is a flower, in the seed an apple tree..." Jane lifted my hand and placed it on her chest, holding my hand close to her heart. "Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father, there is no shadow of turning with thee; thou changest not, thy compassions, they fail not..." Jane pressed my hand closer to her heart. Tears spilled from my eyes. "And God will raise you up on eagle's wings, bear you on the breath of God, make you to shine like the sun and hold you in the palm of His hand." Then Jane slowly lowered my hand, still holding on.

Her son walked in about that time. He looked at his mother. I told him the story of my singing and her response. "When I left at 8:30 a.m. this morning she was totally unresponsive." He reported to me. "Something happened here." I told him. "Jane knew those songs and somehow they reached her." He got on the phone to call his sister. I leaned down to kiss Jane on the forehead, then I left him talking privately with his sibling.

I walked slowly to my car, reverently. I was in no hurry to walk away from the heavenly experience. Jane had seen God and I had seen Jane's response to the God of her faith. I was touched, inspired. This bright woman of faith had responded to God in the only way she could. The massive stroke had robbed her of her ability to speak, to talk, to walk, to move. But her soul was awake, alive to the song of God and she acknowledged God's presence. What a magnificent moment, a God moment, like the picture of Adam and God connecting with one another in the Sistine Chapel painting.

Such encounters profoundly move me. I know that the human soul awakens to a different tune than every day living. I know it responds to something deeper. It desires a rendezvous with the Sacred. Jane has always known this. She was ready, prepared and so was her response.

I am reminded that what is visible is not always all that there is. Within every human life there is the invisible movement of spirit, one we cannot altogether explain, if at all. This is the almighty touch of God, linking, touching, embracing God's own child. It is a divine expression of God's love for His own. This is what gives life its ultimate meaning, purpose and joy.

Deep,
you are deep within.
Your Spirit brings our spirit to life.
It cannot hold back.
You speak and we hear.
We may or not not choose
to respond outwardly
but our acknowledgement within
speaks volumes.
The naked eye cannot see
this coming together;
only God knows
and the human.
One body.

Love always, Andrea