Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!
How do I even begin to describe Sunday?
The food team went ahead of us, preparing a beautiful brunch for all of us. The decorations team transformed our meeting room into a lovely banqueting place. The women arrived, joyful, open, ready to receive whatever we had for them, faces glowing. It was a complete transformation from the women we'd met first on Thursday.
As I looked at the extravagance around me, I began to pray earnestly that each of them would understand what it was all about. It wasn't about our love for them, we hardly knew them. I was desperate for them to understand that all of this, all we'd done for them all weekend long was but a picture of the extravagant love God has for them, the grace He lavishes upon them.
Our musical worship that morning was powerful. The message of the Lord's Prayer woven with songs and testimony was undeniably annointed. And, then we moved into our final small group time. I asked them one question, "Tell me what you will remember about this weekend, a year from now when you've forgotten our names, what will you remember about this time we've had together?" I was terrified that they'd say something about the gifts or the decorations or the silly games.
Juana went first. "I will remember that yesterday, I gave my heart to Jesus." And I cried because I realized at least one of them had gotten it. Maria was next. "I know that God wants to have a relationship with me, and it is time for me to draw near to Him." Yesss! I cried some more. Edith told us, "I am beginning to believe that it's possible for someone to love me without wanting something from me, that there is a genuine Love out there." More tears. Amanda, one of our senior adults, shared that she would remember the hugs, that she really appreciated the physical touch of love we'd brought with us, and she considered that to be God's gift to her throughout the weekend. My heart cracked. At this point, there were two others still sharing, but Vanessa, who'd told me she didn't really do this church stuff, reached over and linked her arm through mine and lay her head on my shoulder. When it was finally her turn she simply said, "I guess I've learned that maybe this God stuff is worth a try. Maybe He is real." I'll take it!
Our final act of service for the women was to put all of them in a circle and wrap a fleece blanket around their shoulders and pray over them. It was joyful and tearful and simply beautiful. I could think of no better way to release them.
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