Three Pain, Two Kiss

Every once in awhile, I feel God's presence so powerfully that it hurts...yet sometimes the Spirit's presence is as gentle as a kiss.

On Friday afternoon, as I was preparing for my part in a Women's Getaway (sponsored by SC WMU), I was taken off guard by the tears that poured down my face and the painful goose bumps that covered my body as my heart, soul, and mind registered that I was not alone in the multi-purpose building at Camp La Vida. I had just finished singing one of my more difficult songs when I was overwhelmed by a flood of emotion that I know only as God. I sensed the realness of the pain and hardship that so many people--including me--carry around, and in that moment I believe that God and I were weeping together...though I cannot, for the life of me, discern anything that God was "saying"...except "Yes. Sing this song. Someone needs to hear it."

During the first break on Friday night, I was greeted by a participant who wanted to know if I knew sign language. As she spoke to me, using broken sign language and finger spelling, I knew that she was mentally and physically challenged, and I wondered if the weekend of sitting and listening--which are both challenging to her--would still be a good weekend for her. Yet she was not concerned about that. She simply wanted to know if maybe she could teach me sign language sometime because I had led a song that used some sign language and she thought it would be neat to help me learn more. After we finished talking, we both went to the snack station to get a drink. She bought two drinks--one for her and a friend--but she needed my help making change. She said, "Can you help me make change? I don't know how to do it." I helped her...and then promptly went back to my room and sobbed, knowing that I had, at the last minute, decided to sing the song with sign language, realizing that that one small, spur of the moment decision had made a huge impact on its observer, and recognizing that I didn't know anymore sign language and that I didn't know how I was supposed to effectively lead her...or all of the other many people groups or person's with disabilities or needs that I so often take for granted.

And then on Saturday, as the missionary spoke, I found myself taken off guard again by the feelings of utter inadequacy and humility that I felt as I was reminded of just how small I am, just how limited my view of God and God's work is, and just how much I am not immune to the message of my own music (or I suppose I should say the music that God sings through me). When I next opened my mouth, I was so overcome by the reality of God's call on all believers' lives--including mine--and God's love for all of God's creation--even me--that I openly wept as I tried to come to terms with the fact that God had called me to SC WMU and that even when I do not feel as if I am doing anything good to further the Kingdom of God's love, I must keep going and trying and hoping and believing...

Yet as I stood and talked with one of many women who poured out words of affirmation, blessing, and support of my ministry, my dear friend Gail gently and graciously came up behind me, touched my shoulder, kissed me on my right cheek, and quietly walked away. And the weekend before, after the Friday night worship service in Erwin, my dear friend Lisa embraced me, gave me a kiss on my right cheek, held my shoulders in her hands, looked me with tears in her eyes, then quietly walked away. It was as if each of them were saying, "Thank you." It was as if God were saying to me, "These women love you because you love them--because you love me--and you allowed me to speak to them through you today. I love you, too, Deanna. And I love that you love me and desire to share my message of love and redemption with this world."

Thank you for speaking, God...and thank you for being in both the pain and the kiss.