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Show 129 "A mighty fortress is our God," we begin, and as I pause the congregation for the first fermata, I notice that a few more voices have joined in singing than in the opening song. "A tower of strength ne'er failing," and I am seeing more eyes looking up from their books and into my eyes and I am suddenly remembering that my whale and my bear, those strident images taped onto the back of my door, were given their strength from the unfailing Source as well. "A helper mighty is our God," we sing more loudly still, and I realize that these people are singing their very testimony of surviving this place, their deep and very personal understanding of just how much God prevails and overcomes the ills of this life. Maybe God doesn't overcome just those obvious various physical ills scattered throughout this room, I am sensing, but instead He overcomes and prevails those difficult spiritual ones in the midst of even our physical demise. And even our physical demise doesn't matter, we are singing, because "He all things did create," and I now notice the tears in so many eyes around the room. I realize suddenly that some of these now singing will not be here next week. They will not even be home. They will be Home. I know this and they know this. But it doesn't really matter because we are all raising our voices that "He shall reign forevermore," and not one voice in the entire room is silent as we hold the last fermata. The hymn echos in our hearts throughout the closing prayer. "If you're still here in the hospital next week," the organist is saying, "will you come back and direct again?" 9- |