This morning I was sick, so I didn't go to church. We live in a parsonage right next to the church, so when I heard a knock on my door, I knew it was someone from church, coming to see how I was.
I have to admit, I didn't have the greatest attitude. I thought to myself, "What part of sick don't you understand?"
I hurriedly dressed myself and opened the door to find my two Liberian sisters standing there. I thought we would just exchange a few pleasantries, I would let them know I was doing okay, thank them for coming, and they would be on their way.
No. They wanted to come in. They knew I was sick, and they wanted to come in and stay for a while. You've got to be kidding me. What were they thinking?
They pulled out my piano bench, and told me to sit down. So, I did.
Then, something happened that I'm still processing and marveling over. They took my hands, formed a circle, and started singing words spontaneously as they came to them.
"Our God is able. He is so able. Our God is powerful. He is so powerful."
It was a beautiful thing to hear their rich voices and thick accents singing over me. Then, just as quickly as they started singing, they broke out into praying simultaneously, each saying different words but building off of what the other was saying. They got louder and louder and squeezed my hands tighter and tighter.
All of a sudden, the floodgates broke, and I started to cry. The tears just began to fall. It felt so good because I have not really cried since I've received the news that I have cancer.
Their words were beautiful and went straight to my heart. They told God that I was his hand-maiden. That made me think of Mary, the mother of Jesus, telling God that she was his hand-maiden and he could do with her as he pleased. Now, I am in no way comparing me to her or my situation to hers, but it helps me put into perspective what the big picture is.
I am his hand-maiden, and he can do with me as he pleases. That is my heart's desire, and sometimes, it gets drowned out by my own fears and limited comprehension of what is real and what is a fake imitation.
I have never had anyone pray over me like that. I am not saying that one style of prayer is better than another. I have, however, gotten very used to the Anglicized way of praying. I know it is a cultural thing, but sometimes experiencing it from a different perspective breathes new life into something to which you've grown accustomed.
That is what my dear sisters did for me. Just the two of them plus me in the privacy of my own living room.
It was like a gift.