I love listening to my husband lead worship. Not because he has the sweetest, most unique voice or that he plays guitar with finesse and groove, but because I love his heart. He’s genuine.
Finn slept on my lap while the first worship song began. There’s this incredible woman (I’ll call her Pam) who sometimes sits a few rows in front of us. She has lots of children…maybe six…maybe eight, one in jail. I told her once how in awe of her I am. Pam is “working poor” and plays the solitary, brave role of a single mom. At least the man is rarely beside her in the pew. Her children are sweet and ragged and often spill their Mountain Dew on the carpet. This morning I watched two of them stand and sing “Your Grace is Enough.” They didn’t know the words and were too young to read the screen but they mouthed along with us anyway. My eyes welled with tears. Their childlike faith was beautiful.
Sometimes when I pass a t-ball or soccer field, I cry. I can’t help it. I’m not hysterical, I just well up with tears, groan a little then move on. I’m sure I’ll get over it someday when Finn has found other activities he loves; but until then, I may just keep crying at the sight of dusty little boys sliding into home. As I watched Pam and all her kids in church this morning, I thought of this scenario. Finn can’t play soccer because his legs don’t work. Perhaps Pam’s kids can’t play soccer because they don’t have money for cleats or shin guards or a reliable vehicle to transport them to games. Maybe she cries when she passes the fields too.
There are worse disabilities than physical disabilities.
Cycles of poverty, addiction, greed, divorce, crippling fear, unrecognized pride, obesity, unforgiveness…on and on…these things disable us too.
As one wheelchair-bound friend says, “Everyone’s disabled. They just may not know it.” Good thing His grace is enough.