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Show 128 The man steps up to the pulpit and welcomes everyone and suddenly the introduction for the opening hymn is being played. I am rising slightly upward in my chair, a non-verbal indication that I am up frorit for this reason, and I raise my right arm slightly. As far up as it will go, anyway. I have cued the tempo to the organist and the congregation with the upward starting beat and I find my crimped and cramping arm beating the tempo in miniature. A small, but correct, pattern. I am finding the words on the page and the melody squeaks weakly out between my hospital-parched lips. I can see Thayne in the back of the room, smiling at me, her several syringes loaded with Versed stuffing her pockets, singing her heart out. We are indeed a motley crew. Few in the IV forest have breath to sing. Most are only following along and some just mouth the words, soundlessly. None in their beds even attempts the task. But the shine on all these faces tells me that we collectively and individually love our Heavenly Father. Just our being here proves it. The sacrament and one short talk later, and we are ready for the closing hymn. "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." It has nine fermatas. An inexperienced director's nightmare. The organ introduction to this hymn is the entire piece played once through and as she nears the end, I raise my hand once again. |