Friday, January 31, 2014

A Passing Miracle?


     Age and acid reflux have taken a toll on my vocal chords, and, for the last few years, anytime I have attempted to sing, my voice has broken, cracked, and squawked. BUT, for the last three months, I have been able to sing.  Being able to sing again is pure joy for me, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude every time anything other than screeching comes out of my mouth.
     I believe God did this. I am not sure why or how, but He restored my voice in November, shortly after my father died and my husband and I began attending a church where I, in spite of being female, am allowed to “bring a hymn”* to the worship service. Incidentally—I thought—I had also started taking a powerful medication for dry eyes.
     Then, the medicine, although working beautifully for my dry eyes, began to seriously disturb my balance. I fell—twice. No dizziness, weakness, nausea, or lightheadedness, I simply fell. I called my eye doctor who instructed me to stop using the drops. That was at the end of December, and I have not fallen since.
     I saw that doctor today. While I was in his office, the coincidence between the medicine and my voice occurred to me, and I asked if the drops could have restored my vocal chords. He said, “They do run down the back of your throat after they leave your eyes, and anything is possible.” He added, “Get your singing in now; the medicine will be out of your system in another month.”
     I am seriously sad and considering trying to take the eye drops again if my voice starts to go. I am praying that the drops have nothing to do with my voice and that my miracle will last just a little longer.
*What then shall we say, brothers and sisters? When you come together, each of you has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. Everything must be done so that the church may be built up. (I Corinthians 14:26)

Friday, January 3, 2014

You REALLY had to Be There




If you have never seen 25 kids, all under 8 years of age, sing and dance their way through the Christmas story, you have missed an indescribable joy. The Sunday before Christmas, Bruce and I attended a children’s cantata at our church, Christian Fellowship Assembly in Tunnel Hill, GA.
Tiny angels, shepherds, the Magi, Mary and Joseph worshiped with abandon.  A grinning four-year-old in  gold lame’ sat atop her father’s shoulders and led the cast, including a donkey, a cow, a sheep, a bird, and a couple of critters of unknown species, to the baby in the manger.
The unconventional Christmas pageant was punctuated with familiar but reimagined carols. I don’t know about you, but toddlers bobbing up and down and singing “O, Holy Night” to a polka beat is beyond my ability to describe. You really had to be there. The director, a young woman with entirely too much energy and infinite patience, waved and pointed and shouted out the lyrics.
One thought has filled my heart and given me great pleasure ever since witnessing this miniature spectacular: never in these children’s lives will anyone at our church tell them, “You can’t worship like that.”
Praise God!