We all have reasons, or stories, to support the things we believe in.
Though faith does not need reason or stories just by the mere point of what faith is there are times when we are given a gift that supports what we believe.
Recently a most beautiful lady of earth died. She was my aunt. She was someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. Someone’s mother. Someone’s cherished wife. She was many different roles yet the same lovely human, to us all.
I told this story to one of her sisters and it made her laugh. I think other’s might relate.
When my aunt’s condition progressed to having hospice called in, family and friends had the chance to spend time with her. It was a great gift to us, given to us by time and her husband, who shared every minute she had left with anyone that wanted to see her.
I had gone to visit her and had the greatest gift of being able to speak with her while she was still able to. She knew who I was, she smiled and kissed me. I thought it would be the last time I got to see her. But fortune was on my side and I was able to see her a couple of more times. Neither time was she able to speak or communicate.
On my last visit my beautiful uncle took me to her room and selflessly closed the door behind him as he left me with her, alone.
She was so beautiful. I had said goodbye to her twice before and saying it again felt like a waste of what little time she had left.
I sat close to her and lay my hand gently on her arm. She couldn’t acknowledge me. She lay there, not sleeping, but not awake. It reminded me of when I sat next to my children every night before they went to sleep. I told her I was going to sing “Amazing Grace” because it is my favorite song. I only ever sang it to my children. I was very self conscious and nervous. I do not have a great singing voice. I cannot carry a tune. There were other people in the next room. I didn’t want to sing for them. Just for her.
I leaned in close. And I sang two verses. I was having a difficult time singing, because of the self consciousness and that fact that I cannot sing. And…possibly because she had such a beautiful singing voice.
I sung as well as I possibly could. I was watching her face as I sang “how precious did that grace appear” hoping to see her open her eyes and look at me, or smile sweetly.
But she didn’t.
She cringed.
And I knew, without a doubt, she could hear me very well.
That, made me smile.
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