| Sunny Side Up March 22, 2006 �2006 Kathleen Gibson We never soar alone It takes a whale of a workload to craft words that sound spontaneous when spoken. The Preacher's especially good at that. "Honey," I told him a while ago. "If you die before me, one of the things I'd miss most is your preaching." He groaned. "That's all?" There's more, of course. But he shines in the pulpit; makes the Bible relevant. Brings its truths home - every week. I seldom appreciate those preaching skills more than when I have to speak myself. After a year of self-imposed sabbatical, I'd watched my next speaking date get closer for months - with rising anxiety. "I should have started these addresses last year, when they asked me," I complained, after dozens of rewrites. It took more than a month, but I finally completed them. Rehearsing in my kitchen, only one word came to mind. Unremarkable. I'd reworked those words so much, I couldn't see straight. Help! I e-screamed to seven of my friends, a varied collection of women. Something's missing! We'll pray, they said. They're good at that. 'Seven from Heaven', I've dubbed them. I spoke five times at that conference. During each address I was aware of something outside me, lifting my words, enabling me to remember, add, leave out, think in double quick time, and feel completely at home behind the podium. It was God, of course, floating me on prayer and his own breath. My missing ingredient, I realized later, was the sum of all the parts. My preparation, plus others' prayers, plus the receptiveness of those in the audience, plus God's hand tying it all together. United, they equaled something worthwhile. During the closing ceremonies of the Torino Olympics, a startling display caught my attention. Arms spread-eagled like wings, a human form took center stage. The figure's movements - somersaults, twists, dives - were slow and deliberate, visibly controlled but exquisitely graceful. Most mesmerizing, however, was the performer's position - about twenty feet above the arena floor, suspended in mid-air. Did you see him? Did you gape, like me? Wonder what on earth was holding him up? I looked for a cleverly disguised harness - none in sight. Only a soaring human, eventually joined by several others, including one on skis and another on a snowboard. Accompanied by strains of numinous melody, they hovered like gulls over water. The announcer explained it: The acrobats were resting on a column of forced air, called a vertical wind tunnel, blasting at something like a hundred and twenty MPH. I've never seen anything like it. I thought of that, after the conference closed. Though thoroughly prepared, my presentations would have fallen flat without the invisible wind that really supported me - God's strength, and my friends' prayers. Occasional chances to 'fly' are granted to most of us. Like those Olympic ceremonial acrobats, I believe it's important to realize - and readily admit - that despite our preparations, we don't soar alone above the watching crowd. That God, prayer, and others are the wind beneath our wings. Remember that, whatever your sky. Respond Home |
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