Learning the Language

I am getting to know some of the  residents of a small skilled nursing community that I have just recently started visiting. Several of those who gather with me for Bible study are deeply devout, and this I find both encouraging and humbling.  Lou tends to hide her faith, but her attentive gaze speaks of her interest.  Barbara rolls in with her large print Bible in her lap. She is enthusiastic and also quite hard of hearing.  I help her find the scripture so she can read along. Estella, too, often brings her Bible. She speaks very little English, and I speak no Spanish (it really is time to do something about that).  The activity director helps with translation and we both help Estella find the text in her Spanish Bible. I come with my own Bible, mask, and face shield which makes me feel like some kind of modern day crusader on a budget.  I know protection devices are important, and without them, I probably would not be there. However, they do not help my being heard.  The result of all this is some chaos that everyone seems to take in stride.  

Yesterday, I read from Mark 5:25, the story of the woman who had been ill for 12 years. She dared to venture out of her isolation, with the intent to simply touch Jesus' garment. In that act of faith, she found the  healing that had eluded her for so long.

The healing stories in the Bible remind me that healing is part mystery, and is much more than just being able to return to the way things used to be. We are called forward. Surely, part of healing is moving into wholeness - accepting and becoming  the person God is calling us to be today.  

As I was reading, commenting, and repeating when needed, Barbara practically shouts, "We must pray for my roommate's fiance! He is ill! He must believe he can be healed!" I said of course we will pray for him. Then Mary, whom I just met, added rather determinedly that we must also pray for the trees that are in danger of burning.  I then realized that I had a small praying community with me, and so we began to pray.  I felt Christ settling in among us as we prayed for those who are ill, including all the trees and all the creatures, including humans, who are losing their homes.  We prayed that  children would always be able to walk among trees and flowers.  We prayed for those who had gathered together, and for those who could not. 

As I was preparing to leave,  Estella ended our time as she always does. In the only English I have ever heard her utter, she says, "I love you."  I smile and bow, as I always do, and tell them how grateful I am for them all. The activity director graces me with a new face shield, and off I go, happy in the knowledge that learning to understand one another is possible.  God's universal language is love. Ultimately, that is our native tongue.    

“Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction." 

Mark 5:34       

   

photograph: Sonoma State, June 2015