I Can’t Hear You, Ch.1 part 3

I Can’t Hear You                           Chapter 1-part 3

 

This particular fall the light box was on and Meg’s birthday party, a sleepover for three pre-teen girls from three different cultures was over. (Note to self: Do not to try that again). The trees were showing their varied end of season color and something different was happening as well.  For the first time in my personal written history, I found myself with some unscheduled periods during the day.  I had been meeting individually with 4 friends.  Then in answer to our prayers, two of them got jobs.  We were thankful for the work, but it meant our weekly morning meetings became sporadic afternoon meetings.   This combined with more schoolwork for the kids left me with a bit more free time.

Theoretically, I had more free time.  In reality there was more time at home with sick family.  We usually enjoy very good health, but Ryan had ended summer vacation with a slight cough.  This evolved into some unknown illness that after months of suffering was dubbed the dreaded lurgy. In selfless acts of solidarity, everyone took his or her turn being the one in bed.  Our family seemed to sniffle and snort from one symptom to another through the rest of the summer and the entire fall.  We were ill so often I considered hanging our family picture at the doctor’s office.  Any spare time was spent nursing or cleaning.  Because it was so unusual for all of us to be sickly we kept thinking it would end.  It was hard to say which happened first, my tired body or my tired soul.

Either way, the gray dismal symptoms of Tired Soul Syndrome were back like a plague but my normal form of relief, hanging in there until we got to the US, wasn’t going to work.  The abbreviated time in the States was now more stressful than life here.  I began to worry about how my soul would recover.  A chronic case of Tired Soul can turn into Apathetic Soul and is harder to treat.

On the other hand, enough life experience had taught me that God could do something different.  I actually prayed that God would care for my tired soul.  The more worried I got, the more I prayed and the more I prayed about recovery, the more excited I got about seeing God do something new and different. The more excited I got, the more encouraged I got because it meant I wasn’t worrying for a change.  With a fragile tentative expectation I began to wonder what God would do.

A bright spot appeared in an unusual form. For the first time in 20 years, I was invited to attend a Bible study with other English speakers. After finishing seminary I was always the teacher and for the past 10 years all studies were in Slovak.  A friend was leading this study with several ladies she didn’t know. I think she recruited me to be a warm body that would do the homework and answer the questions. The Bible study book focused on learning to walk with God, especially hearing Him and following His leading.  I needed time to make new friends without expending much energy.

We were a mixed bunch: some Protestant from various denominations, some Catholic, some native English speakers, and some using English as a second language, some married, and some with kids. We all shared a desire to get together with other ladies and the Bible study was a nice addition-so were the muffins and tea.  Since my motives were the same, I couldn’t fault anyone for being as excited about banana bread as the lesson.