Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Dear God,

We were singing The First Noel when I spotted her. A pastor's wife among the retirees she laid her hand on her husband's shoulder. She just patted him, softly and gently as if laying her hand on a newborn. Tears formed in her eyes and spilled over as she whispered the song's words.

Jack had had a stroke a few months before. Coming home after working at the church, she had called out for her husband who could only speak gibberish. She called 911. He is recovering. But in her mind she was remembering. Her gentle touch spoke volumes.

This was a room filled with retired ministers and their spouses. Julie was leading us in singing the familiar carols. Their was a hush. I could see a mystical moment forming as the servant men and women sang songs they have sung, some for more than 50-60 years in ministry. I thought to myself that these were those who had said yes to you. They had gone to school and served parishes for decades. Now they are older but singing those carols, especially Silent Night, Holy Night, they were back in their churches serving. They too were remembering.

For some of society this was a room of discards. Older people deemed to be useless now. Yet, what I saw was beautiful. I saw faithfulness, loyal servants who have ministered in the trenches for years. Counselling, baptizing, preaching, doing weddings and funerals, comforting the distressed, giving and sharing, providing and loving, imparting grace. These were your people who have cared for your children for many, many years. The stories I thought, the stories they could tell. The stories of faithfulness.

I felt humbled to sit among them.

Your spirit
filled the room
as the songs
of faith
were sung.
I watched it happen.
There was
a gentle beauty
unfolding.
Christ walked
among us
as we sang.
A Savior
who is Christ
the Lord
was birthed
in that room
days before Christmas.

Loving you, Andrea