Stories: Homeword

Challenges Are Certain

We sit as a family in the pew that has become comfortable to us. Hymn singing, intercessory prayer, and the offering has passed. During the silence before the special music, just before the sermon, I scan the morning crowd.

I pause, looking from pew to pew, and find myself staring at the few deaf members who sit near the front – on the side where we sit, just about ten rows ahead.

Quietly, their hands flutter with intention as they nod, make eye contact between each other and smile.

The first chord of the song sounds and the choir’s singing begins in unison. As we listen, the small group watch with enthusiasm, keeping time with the voices they cannot hear.

As the sermon begins, a hearing church member signs the words. The deaf members listen with their eyes and engage with their hearts. I am touched by their eagerness to participate. Their attention as they fellowship, worship and give of themselves to the moment inspires me. They are challenged to find alternate ways of worship. . .and they do so wonderfully.

My mind flashes back to when my daughter Amie was little, just three or four years old. Like many children, she operated at only two speeds – full out and asleep. She took on every waking moment with an enthusiasm that made me stand in awe – or sit exhausted from trying to keep up with the girl! It was common to see her head pop around a corner. She was afraid she was missing something. She was curious. She was seeking. She was eager to experience everything she could experience.

I was moved by her willingness to drink from the cup of life with big gulps. Her eagerness and relentless spirit inspired me.

Over the recent holidays, Kathy and I took our three daughters out for dinner at the seafood restaurant near where we live. We ordered our food. Amie doesn’t enjoy eating fish, so she ordered a hamburger. The food came. We ate. And as we were finishing, laughter began to flow from my Amie like the waitress’ pitcher that continuously filled our glasses with sweet tea. I watched Amie as her eyes sparkled, and my thoughts floated back to days gone by. Once again I was able to see the little Amie, her blonde hair flashing down the hall of our home in Louisiana on Penick Street, as she lights like a butterfly from room to room. I sit in the restaurant while these memories flood my consciousness, and the laughter that rings in my ears brings great joy to me as tears pool in the corner of my eyes.

Today, Amie is twenty-one and life is more of a challenge. There are days now when she is less carefree. She is forced to make difficult decisions. She picks herself up when she falls. She learns tough lessons as a junior in college both in the classroom and out of the class. She leans in the wind and places one foot in front of the other foot. And she makes her way deliberately.

There are lessons to be learned all around us. Life is a classroom that never lets out. We can lay our heads down, fail to pay attention or not turn in our homework. We can sit dumb while the tests of life come and catch us unaware. We can tire, and our enthusiasm for life can wane. We can sit still going nowhere, or we can find a new way.

We are not our own. We must remember who we are and whose we are in Christ. We can be amazed by a small child, and we can be inspired by the lives of those who live in silence and yet resound like a large bronze bell hung high in a glistening white steeple.

Challenges are certain, but joy is at hand!

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