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| Sunny Side Up! Nov.21,2001 � 2001 by Kathleen Gibson When mercy and grace picked up the song Her singing voice could melt the heart of a grinch, fill a hall with emotion. At weddings, anniversaries or funerals, her voice added a graceful touch of artistry and inspiration. She was the head of the music committee at her church, beautiful, loved. But she flung it all aside when she chose to indulge in a flagrant extra-marital affair. The pedestal toppled with a resounding thud. A few were glad. More were dismayed. She was my friend. I assisted where I could as she clawed her painful way back from the edge of self-destruction to remorse, repentance and finally fragile self-acceptance. It took two years, and she wasn�t the same woman at the end of them. She was quieter, humbled, and she possessed the kind of wisdom found only in those who have made great mistakes, admitted them, and learned from them. But she wouldn�t sing. Couldn�t. I was at her church that day that changed. Several choir members had convinced her to join them. To raise praises to the God who had welcomed her back with open arms, joyous psalms to the one who makes all nature sing. All nature, that is, except her. But she said she�d try. The choir made their way to the platform, sheet music rustling, cloth whispering. They looked around for her. In vain. She was sitting close to me, head bowed, body shaking. You don�t have to do it, I was about to say. Then two people were beside her, one at each elbow. They bent down, one touched her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She lifted her head and I saw it then, written on her face in lines as old as sin itself. ......Even God couldn't want me up there. I'm not worthy of a song. The man took her left elbow; the woman, the right. They lifted her, supported her toddler-like steps till they reached the waiting choir. We tried not to stare, but it was an impossible task. This red-eyed, stooped shouldered, trembling woman� surely it wasn�t time, not yet. The music began. I wish I could remember the song. It should have been something soul-stirring, something like Love So Amazing, or He Lifted Me, or even Victory in Jesus. But I really can�t recall. I remember that those two people flanked her during that entire song; that the choir pressed in close, that somewhere around the third verse she lifted her head, started moving her lips, and before the last cadence she looked at me. Her eyes were glowing and the tremors had stopped. She�s not stopped singing since. We sing together sometimes, when I travel back to where she lives. We�re both a lot older now, and these memories hardly ever come up. But one day I saw Mercy and Grace stoop over a wounded friend, lift her up and help her find her song. I will never forget it. And that, my friend, is exactly what a church should be all about. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |