by Lynn Donovan
Grace nodded. The two women held hands, and Kim-Ly prayed. The two said “Amen.” Both wiped tear-moistened eyes.
Just like that, yet another godly friend prayed for her. Why had she isolated herself from these people?
Kim-Ly wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Grace’s arm and put her stethoscope in her ears. Grace sat silently while she took the reading.
“So, are you coming back to the Praise and Worship Team?” Kim-Ly folded the cuff into a flat square and placed it back in the bracket on the wall.
“Well, no.” Grace stared down at her lap. Her legs had turned a splotchy purple. The paper gown was not enough to keep her slender body warm.
Kim-Ly resumed her nurse posture, pen once again poised over her chart. She entered several assessment readings and lifted her attention to Grace.
Grace continued. “She just asked me to illustrate the Christmas Eve Program.”
“Oh Grace, that would be wonderful. So, are you going to do it?”
“I told her I would.”
“She is right. Your signing is beautiful, and it would bless the congregation. And if she received that message from God, you can count on it being true. It is her gift.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Grace leaned back and pressed her head into the paper covered pillow.
One more procedure, see what happens. If nothing, then she would reassess whether this was how she wanted to spend her husband’s life insurance benefits.
Lord, I need you to let me know what to do. Please hear my prayer. Show me a sign.
A click brought her attention back to Kim-Ly. “There, this light will help warm you back up.” She adjusted the neck of the light so its warm rays touched Grace’s legs.
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes and waited for the doctor to come in.
Chapter Nine
That unshakable dread filled Grace’s heart. It had taken everything she had to make herself go to the church. Even though it had been her own decision to go to all the Christmas rehearsals, instead of, as Barbara had said, on the last rehearsal night. She knew it was the right way to do this. Still, she had talked herself out of it three times. But then, three times she forced herself to override the excuses and get ready to go. She released a heavy sigh and pulled on the large, black-glass door. Somehow she’d get through this.
“Well, looky here!” Barbara squealed from the stage. She hurried over to Grace and took hold of her hands. “I’m so happy ta see you. But I told you, you don’t have to come ’til the week before Christmas Eve.”
Grace lifted her chin and set her jaw. “No. If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right. I’ll come to all the practices before the program.” Grace pursed her lips and squeezed Barbara’s hands. Then she released her grip and approached the other members. Ron, Lucy, and Cynthia each came up and hugged Grace warmly. As she hugged them, the dread of seeing everyone no longer hovered in her senses. Even Jeremiah, the young drummer, saluted her with his sticks. Tears stung her eyes as they each expressed their joy in having her back on the team. The lead-weight of grief in her heart lifted slightly. She allowed herself to smile, and the gesture felt good, too. How long had it been since she had let herself smile? Not counting the day she ran into Barbara. Maybe this was a new trend, a welcomed new trend in her life.
“Places, everybody!” Barbara clapped her hands, and everyone stepped over to where they normally stood. Grace knew where to stand, in front of the harmony singers. A spotlight burned down on her shoulders. It had been set for her illustrations several years ago and had never been moved. She grinned, knowing this spot was her place at the Praise and Worship performance.
Barbara slipped behind the keyboard and gave the initial chords. The singers sang their note. “Ahhhhhhh.”
Grace signed, singing.
Ron announced, “Grace is in tune.” The others chuckled, including Grace.
Barbara winked at her. “Okay. Let’s start with The First Noel.”
Jeremiah clicked his drumsticks. Click, click, click, click…
The team began to sing.
Grace signed in large fluid motions, as if she were dancing with her arms. A peaceful sensation washed over her, and she breathed deeply. How could she have dreaded coming? This was where she belonged.
The chorus was repeated and the next stanza began.
A young woman, about Grace’s height, but a little heavier, carried a highchair through a back door of the sanctuary. Grace continued to sign with the singers, but curiosity distracted her mind. Although the sanctuary was only forty feet deep, she couldn’t see the woman’s face. Still, something about her seemed familiar. Her golden-brown hair was cut in a cute chin-length bob. Highlights differentiated the top from the bottom. I’ve always wanted to cut my hair like that. And those highlights…
The woman lugged the baby chair right up next to the dais and sat it down, her back mostly toward Grace, and then returned to the back door.
The third stanza began.
The woman reentered the sanctuary. This time she had a golden-blonde toddler on her hip. She sat an orange Sippy cup and a blue bowl on the tray. Then, she slid the little girl into the highchair and pulled up another chair to face the child.
Grace watched with great curiosity. “You want your Sippy cup?” the woman asked the baby. Then she signed drink. The sign imitated one holding a cup to one’s mouth and drinking from it. The woman’s signing surprised Grace. She didn’t know that many people who knew sign language, except her family, of course. Odd, too, that Grace could hear her so clearly, maybe a mic was picking up her voice. Grace glanced at Barbara. Wouldn’t this woman’s voice interfere with the singing? Why didn’t Barbara do something?
Grace’s obsessive attention returned to the woman. Her nails were not professionally manicured, like most women in the church, including Grace, although they were nicely trimmed. Maybe this stood out in her appearance because she was signing. She wore an oversized T-shirt and jeans, far too casual, even for working in the child care.
“Cup,” the baby said the word with a nod and signed drink with fat, baby hands. It looked more like she was putting the thumb-side of her fist to her mouth, but it was obvious she signed drink.
The woman handed the Sippy cup to the baby and she eagerly sucked on the mouthpiece. She threw her head back and laughed. It was a delightful sound that warmed Grace’s insides like a warm mug of hot cocoa. As the child’s head went back, the Sippy cup went flying toward the woman. She juggled to catch it. Juice splattered on her face and hands. “No, no. Don’t throw your cup.” She giggled and set the cup aside.
The chorus, in three part harmony, was sung to its final round.
Grace absently signed the words of the song, but her attention was glued to the scene in front of the stage.
The woman signed eat, food and the baby signed eat. This sign was easier for the baby. All five fingers touched at the tips and pointed to the mouth. Food was the same gesture but with the finger-spelling letter “F” touching the lips. This sign required too much dexterity for the baby. But she had eat down really well. A pleasant sensation settled in Grace’s heart.
The woman signed more food.
The baby signed more eat.
She spooned the food from the little blue bowl to the baby’s mouth, and praised her for her signs, “Good girl.”
The team began to sing the next song, “Oh Holy Night.”
Grace signed fluidly, yet her captivation was on the two on the floor. Who was this woman? Why had she come out here to feed the baby? Was something going on in the nursery? Why was she using signs with the child? The little girl wasn’t deaf. The mother wasn’t deaf, either. Grace heard them both speak. In fact—
Grace’s hands stopped mid-gesture. How did she hear them so clearly? If a mic picked up the woman’s voice, why hadn’t Barbara asked her to move away from the sound system? Or maybe the acoustics of the room carried their voices. But how, and over the amplified singers? Really?
&nbs
p; Barbara stopped the team. Ah, she had heard the woman. Now they’d be asked to move. But Barbara directed her attention on the harmony singers instead. She wanted the soprano, Lucy, and alto, Cynthia, to spread their harmony from two to three and then four parts, which would include Ron, the tenor, and of course, Barbara.
While she worked with the two girls independently, Grace stepped over to Ron to whisper. “Say, do you know that woman over there?”
Ron contemplated Grace in a strange way. Then his eyes swept the sanctuary. “Who?”
“That woman—” Grace turned to point her out, but she was gone. “Huh, well, she was right there, feeding a little girl…in a highchair. Did you see them?”
Ron shrugged and adjusted his microphone.
How could he not notice them? Then again, she was so focused on getting pregnant, she noticed every pregnant woman and baby within a country mile. It was like when you buy a certain kind of car, and then you notice them all over the place, whereas before you’d never noticed any of them, anywhere. Ron was a man. He wouldn’t notice such things. She’d ask Barbara. Nothing slipped by her keen awareness.
Oh Holy Night was perfected, and the team moved on to Joy to the World. Last, they practiced a song Grace loved dearly. It was the essence of Christmas, as far as she was concerned. Tears welled in her eyes. She became completely absorbed in the words as she signed.
“Mary did you know? That your baby boy...”
Chill bumps ran down her back and legs. She felt like when she prayed, something washed over her with peace and yet exhilaration.
Grace signed the words with her hands, but she felt them in her heart. Tears poured from her eyes. She just couldn’t control her emotions. This song was so amazing. How incredible it must have been to give birth to Jesus.
The lyrics stayed with her even after they finished practicing. She hummed to herself, Mary, did you know? That your baby boy hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm...
Could Mary have known? Grace wondered what her own baby would be like. Would she look like Chris? Would he have her eyes? Would she ever get pregnant? She glanced toward the place where the woman had fed her child.
Who was that woman?
Chapter Ten
“Barbara, can I ask you something?” Grace hated to bother her, but curiosity had a hold of her mind and wouldn’t let go.
“Of course.” Barbara moved from shutting down the central sound system.
“Who was that woman?”
Barbara leaned her head to one side and stared at Grace. “Who, dear?”
“That woman with the little girl, she was feeding her and signing to her. Do you know them?” Grace swallowed. She had not imagined it. Had she? Maybe she had. Her obsession might have affected her reality.
“Signing to a baby?” Barbara scanned the sanctuary, as if she might see them there.
“No, dear, I didn’t see anybody with a baby or otherwise.” Her eyebrows knitted together and then relaxed. “Oh, but I was busy with the singers. I’m sure I wasn’t paying any attention elsewhere.”
“Hmm. I—I just don’t…know.” Grace wanted to insist the woman had been there, but she wouldn’t ask any more about it. She knew what she had seen. Why didn’t anybody else notice them? She couldn’t explain that one, but how amazing it had been to watch them signing to each other.
What a great thing to do, too, teaching a baby to sign, before she had linguistic skills. Brilliant! Then her heart ached. Would she ever get the chance to teach her own child to sign? Her sister, Faith, believed it would happen. But then again, Faith always believed in the impossible.
Be a blessing in order to receive a blessing. Barbara’s words reverberated in Grace’s memory. Wasn’t that why she was here, to share her gift of signing with the congregation, for Christmas, with hopes for God to bless her with a child? Guilt suddenly flooded her heart. Was that wrong of her? Shouldn’t she sign for the Christmas Program simply to be a blessing to the church and not expect anything in return? She bit her lip and tears stung her eyes.
Grace glanced back at the pulpit. She considered running to the platform and kneeling in repentance. Instead, she pushed on the door to exit the building, but couldn’t walk out. She hurried back into the sanctuary.
Barbara gathered up her papers from the keyboard and glanced up.
Grace stood below her. Tears spilled from her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Barb, would you pray with me?”
“Of course.” The pastor rushed down the three steps and took Grace’s hands.
“Oh, Barbara, I’ve been so wrong!” Grace collapsed to her knees and folded her hands against her face.
Barbara knelt beside her and put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “What is it dear?”
“I—” She sobbed. “I agreed to sign for the Christmas Program selfishly…just so I could receive a blessing. I realized today, how…how wrong my attitude is. Oh, Barb, I want to confess my sinful attitude and ask God to forgive me. I only want to serve Him. I don’t want anything in return…”
“Oh, honey. John 13:17 tells us, ‘Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.’ You go on, confess to the Lord. I will stand, will kneel, in agreement with you.”
Grace cleared her throat and poured out her soul to the Lord. “I’m sorry Lord. Please forgive me for being selfish.”
She thanked Him for her pastor and friend, for her church, for this opportunity to bless the congregation. She thanked Him for His son and the celebration of His birth. She asked Him to help her bless the people with her signing for His glory and not for her own selfish reasons.
Barbara wept at her side and agreed with her plea. At last both women said, “In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Grace stood and wiped her tears. Her pastor, too, wiped moist cheeks and hugged her.
“God bless you.” She squeezed Grace one last time then let go.
Grace lifted her discarded purse. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Barbara returned her smile and resumed gathering her sheet music.
“I’ll see you Sunday.” Grace said as she floated toward the doors. She hadn’t felt this good since…before Chris got sick.
Chapter Eleven
The next three weeks flew by and before Grace knew it, it was Christmas Eve. She pulled out her dark-green, long sleeved, velveteen dress. She had worn it to the last Christmas Program. Was it three or four years ago? Three, she decided.
She struggled with the zipper. For a split second, she almost called Chris to help her. No, he wasn’t there to call. A wave a grief washed over her. She sat down on their bed. How could she possibly perform tonight? She remembered kneeling at the altar with Barbara. For His glory. This is for your glory, God. She sucked in a deep breath and pressed on.
She could do this. It was just a zipper. She could do it by herself. She inhaled, sucking her tummy in as tight as possible, and pulled on the zipper. Tooth by tooth, inch by inch, it slid up. She reached over her shoulder and completed the zipping. Panting, she glanced at the mirror. The dress was tight but lovely. She had gained some weight since she’d knelt in repentance, enjoying a few too many pre-Christmas treats. She smiled at her reflection, but the mirth didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You can do this,” she said to the reflection.
Now to fix her hair. A French curl at the back of her head would do. She curled her hair all over with the curling iron, and then brushed it back to roll it over her finger. After employing several bobby pins and lots of hairspray, she soon approved of her hair-do. Christmas-bell earrings completed the outfit. She stood back and gazed at the mirror. She had to admit, she looked nice. Chris would be pleased. An application of holiday-red lipstick, and she was ready to leave.
The Praise and Worship Team met in the fellowship hall one hour before the service and ran through the songs. Barbara was as giddy as a kid, just like every Christmas holiday before.
The Pastor’s effervescent attitude made Grace smile. It was contagious. She just might go
home and set up the Christmas tree after all. It would honor Chris’s memory to celebrate this holiday, rather than drowning in grief like last year…and the year before.
Excitement washed over her, and heat rushed up her neck. The room tilted. She swallowed against the nausea. “Whoa,” she moaned and leaned against a table.
Ron grabbed her elbow. “Grace? You all right?”
“Yeah, I just got too excited.” She could still feel the heat in her cheeks. She frowned. “Ridiculous, huh?”
Barbara whispered in Lucy’s ear. Lucy nodded and ran from the room. In no time, she came back with a couple of bottled waters. One was shoved into Grace’s hand. She twisted the lid and gulped down several swallows. The coolness filled her chest. The room had stopped tilting, and she felt much better.
“You look pale.” Ron steadied her by holding her elbow. “Want me to go get Doc Gunnison? I think I saw him and Mrs. G come in a little bit ago.”
“No, no. I’m fine, really. This water is helping.” She took another drink as if it would prove she was all right.
Ron glanced at Barbara.
Grace followed his gaze. Barbara nodded toward them both.
“Well, okay, if you’re sure.” Ron stepped back as Barbara approached.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. Should have eaten a better lunch, I guess.”
Barbara nodded as a knowing smile parted her lips. “You take this other water, too. And if you need it during the performance, you be sure to drink it.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Barbara patted her arm and faced the other performers. “All right, let’s get on stage. The program is about to start. Smiles everyone!”
She glanced back at Grace.
Grace looked behind her. What was that twinkle in Barbara’s eyes?
Chapter Twelve
Associate Pastor Kevin Adams welcomed everyone to Cedar Grove Community Church and wished a Merry Christmas to them all. He asked for bowed heads and prayed for God’s blessings on the program.