Deep Language

 Some care communities have some stringent steps one must go through to visit. We must answer questions about our vaccination status and where we have recently traveled and with whom  we have been in contact with. Temperatures are taken. Sometimes I am asked to take off my personal mask and put on a disposable one. Sometimes I must don a face shield. Only then, can I pass by the front desk, which now is invariably behind plexiglass. Everything seems a bit muffled and distant.  If someone smiles, it is sensed more than seen.  Often,  there is a weariness present that is palpable.   

This week, I was in one of those communities. How happy I was to see the activity director walking towards me. She is one who smiles, and no mask can hide the fact that she is smiling. She tells me that Barbara cannot join us because she is expecting her daughter. We walk past Barbara's room, and I wave at her. I ask if I can step in to talk with her for a moment. She is quite hard of hearing, so having a conversation at a distance is impossible.  The activity director assured me that would be fine. 

Barbara seemed not to recognize me until she saw my Bible. She then exclaimed in her gravelly voice, "Oh, yes!"  She spreads her arms wide and reaches out from her wheelchair to give me a hug. I find her delightful. She loves God, and that love pours out on  those she comes into contact with. She apologizes for not being able to join me today. I assure her that a daughter's visit is important. We bless one another, and I travel on to the activity room, where I am greeted with another hug. This time, it is from Estelle  who speaks very little English. The activity director often translates for her, including my prayers.  I laugh and tell the director that God's love translates quite well.  She agreed. 

As I walk back down the hall to visit another community, I see Barbara leaning close to her daughter. They are in an earnest conversation. I walk by unnoticed, and that is how it should be. 

I think a lot about faith when I cross these thresholds because I sense our being anointed by a  love that simply cannot be contained. It spills out everywhere. It cannot be masked or  measured.  I hear it in the laughter and I sense it in the weariness.  I feel it when we open our Bibles and help one another find our way to the same page.       

   

Image: Sonoma State University, June 2015