Slice of Life: A Daily Story

Day One

Friday, June 22, 2012

She

She walked upon the stage, haltingly, cautiously, almost wearily. The weeks have been long and difficult – moving does that at times and all the packing is taking a toll on her already weakened body. Illness does that at times. She was still young and unwilling to believe that she was no longer vital. What is vitality anyway? Well, if your career involves speech and one has lost the power of speech then obviously vitality involves the ability to talk. So I guess I am no longer vital, she thought to herself. She breathed deeply and placed one foot on front of the other, forcing herself forward across the stage. Recognition for achievements seems all but mundane in the face of the loss of her job, her career, her calling. YOUR calling God, she thought, YOUR call upon my life. Arriving mid-stage, she stopped and listened to her name echo through the sound system around the giant space that is the civic center. Accolades for a job well done, for all of her accomplishments, for all that she has done for and given to the church, the constituents, the conference. She dropped her head – not out of embarrassment, more out of shame. A feeling of failure seemed to seep deep into her bones and settle there. And then the Bishop approached her, hugged her, whispered into her ear – “there is more for you to do; God isn’t finished with you yet.” The tears began to well within her eyes. The applause began subtlety and began to grow. By the time she was released from the Bishop’s embrace the entire room was upon their feet and applauding. A standing ovation, for me, she thought. The tears fell. She slowly walked off the stage, escorted and aided down the stairs, she exited the room. Around the corner, out of sight, hidden from all the eyes – pull yourself together girl. She returned to the hall, walked to her seat. She held her head high.

Pride, isn’t that one of the seven deadly sins? She didn’t care; she was going to make sure that retained her pride in the face of her bitter loss. She had heard the call from God while still a young adult in college; it challenged her and urged her to change her major life course to that of a minister. Being a minister is a tough job, ridiculously tough as a female; the perspectives of many older congregations were not aligned to the acceptance of women in the pulpit, even now. Had she miss heard? Maybe she had misinterpreted? She completed seminary, began her ministry as every woman in the conference had, in the small rural church of the Shenandoah Valley. The Valley was the truest test of the preaching abilities of the women – if rural Virginia could tolerate you in the pulpit, then a successful career in the pulpit was assured. And she passed, with flying colors, and was moved to a very urban community. Things were going wonderfully and then she was struck – unable to speak; as debilitating as a construction worker becoming a quadriplegic. She was left bereft, broken, and feeling abandoned by God. Friends encouraged her, prayed with her and for her, uplifted her. Words of comfort and care surrounded her. And she knew the value of the words, and for the most part agreed with each sentiment. Yes, she knew that while God closed one door he would open another. Yes, she knew that God would walk with her through this period in her life. Yes, she knew that great things would come if she trusted in God. Yes, she knew … At times she just wanted to scream, but she didn’t even have the ability to do that any longer, did she?

She sat in her chair, on the floor of the civic center, with her head held high, and the tears streaming down her face; and those around her offered yet another platitude, another sentiment. They placed their arms around her shoulders and they gently hugged her and they encouraged her to hang in there, hold on, and wait upon the Lord. And she smiled bravely, with the tears streaming down her cheeks, and nodded slightly with each passing word and touched each hand lightly. And within, within she was screaming.