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by Calle FriesenShe is sitting so close to me. I would have gladly sat somewhere else, not to avoid her, but to spare her the agony of being in my vicinity.
I don't know what the problem is, but the symptoms are obvious. Like the time I attended a luncheon where she was assigned hostess detail. As I extended my hand, she did not offer hers. Then, through a tight, plastic smile, she said sharply, "So nice to have you here today."
I've seen her walking along the sidewalk in our small town, at the supermarket or at the post office, and she averts her gaze and pretends she doesn't see me. She doesn't like me, even though we've never had a conversation. I've concluded that whatever the problem is, it began long before she ever met me.
Now here we are on a women's retreat. I try not to sit too close to her. Her face looks stern and set. The expression is so comfortably settled, it seems to have been at home with her for a long time--an outward sign of a heavy inner burden.
This is supposed to be a weekend of refreshment and friendship. A time to soften stern faces and ease heavy loads. The voices of 275 women resound in beautiful melody and we stand and worship the Lord. I am here, fully alive in the moment, agreeing in my spirit with every phrase. My heart is so full of the joy of the song, I can feel it ringing in my toes.
I hear her voice, crackled and weak. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I can see that she has become uncomfortable. Her face is hot pepper red and sweat is pouring down her brow. I think it must be one of those menopausal hot flashes. She is mopping herself with a limp tissue, alternately pulling at the bottom of her shirt and waving her paper program to fan herself.
All the while, I sing praise to my King.
And then I hear it, the voice of God--not with my ears, but with my heart.
He says, "Go get her a glass of water."
"There's no way I can do that right now, we're singing."
I hear it again, "She needs a glass of water."
"Very inconvenient right now. I'd have to climb over a lot of people to get to the door."
"I told you to go and get her a glass of water."
"But I'm busy… praising You, Lord… "Shout to the Lord, all the earth let us sing…"
"WATER!"
"Oh, all right! I was going to stay here and praise Your beautiful name. I had every intention of honoring You with my songs of praise. But You want water. Fine, I'll get the water."
I clamber through a maze of women whose voices ring with angelic harmony. Some have their eyes closed tightly, focusing on their adoration of God. I walk out of the auditorium and find the ice dispenser. I look at the small Styrofoam cups. Compassion starts to well up within me. I think about how hot she must feel. I hunt for a larger tumbler and fill it with lovely chipped ice and top it off with cool water.
I head back to the auditorium, weave through the rows of ladies and find her overwhelmed by her hormonal heat attack. She has collapsed in her chair, soaked with sweat.
I come up behind and gently put one hand between her shoulder blades and pat her softly as I hand her the glass of ice water with my other hand.
She looks up with speechless astonishment-as if I were a purple alien in a tiara. After we make eye contact, I continue past her to my seat and resume my place in the chorus.
Just seven minutes elapsed since I first realized how close we were sitting to the time I handed her the cup of cold water.
An hour and a half later, as the meeting is coming to a close, I feel a hand on mine. I look up and hear that familiar tight, polite voice say, "That was very thoughtful."
All I can think to say is, "You're welcome." Later, 25 other things come to me that would have been more meaningful.
The next day we are assembled for the final session of this great women's retreat. She is sitting comfortably two rows behind me.
I am one of the actors in a short skit that is presented before the speaker comes up to share her final message. I descend from the stage and return to my seat. From two rows back, she is up out of her seat, making her way towards me. She puts her hand on my shoulder and with a genuine, almost pretty, smile says, "That was just great. You did a good job."
I am smiling. A cup of cold water. Is that all it really takes to soften a heart? Oh God, You are so wise. Thank You for telling me.
I don't know much about the heavy load she carries. But I'm almost certain that as she bent over me that morning and gave me that short message of encouragement, that a few rocks fell off the top of her load. As she walked back to her seat, I knew she was just a little lighter.
~ Calle Friesen dreads the day of her first hot flash, but can't wait till one of her four children offers her a cup of cold water with lovely ice chips!
