The snow sent sparkles dancing through the windows. Clean. Pure. So white. The windows stood tall, making the crisp, blue sky seem as if it were streaming in along with the sunlight.
It wasn't that her smile was striking. She didn't smile any more than the rest of choir. Yet, somehow that clean, winter glory spilled into the sanctuary walls a little more because of her. As the notes of Christmas carols floated through the room, I found my eyes gravitating towards her. While the rest of the choir stood, she sat, confined to her wheel chair. The music was beautiful. Each word seemed to come from the hearts of all the singers, but I especially noticed it in her. I'm not sure why she was wheel chair bound. I'm sure many explanations could be found. But, she was not about to allow a disability to stop her singing. She didn't let it tame her smile, her joy, or her desire to praise Jesus. She sat, while the others stood, and she sang with ever so much hope and love.
It was nothing striking. What I noticed was the simple faithfulness the moment captured. I was reminded that no matter what curve balls life throws, I want to sing despite them. When I am older, I don't want a wheel chair to stop my passion. Even if the coming years hold untold pain, I hope that I will always find a reason to lift my voice in song, singing, "Joy to the world, the Savior Reigns. Let men their songs employ." No matter the situation, want to look up at the blue in the sky and still say that their is hope in my heart and joy my bones. I want to inspire people to hold on, even if it's by those small moments that I choose to say, "Yes, Lord" even to the little things.
Outside the world was stark and cold, but it's brightness seeped into the church's walls. The songs filled the corners of the building, and the hope on her face filled the corners of my heart.
Meaningful words, sweet girl!
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