Sunday Observation

I walked in, the outsider looking in, to a group of a dozen or more women varied in ages. Their lives, their customs and traditions so much different than my own. I can't help but wonder what these women think of me. I'm sure they're wondering what I'm doing here with them.

We don't have much in common and it's very obvious I know nothing about them or their language. They smile and nod at me, I in turn, do the same.

I take a seat for the next hour at a table, at the end, out of their way and just observe.

What I see is a group of women who have gathered who love the Lord. A teacher who has studied and speaking from her heart...passionate about the topic at hand. Hand gestures when needed and even a funny anecdote here and there as she smiles and even laughs to herself. A group of women who share a respect for one another as it's seen in the way they interact with each other, laugh with each other and on this day, cry with one another.

We go through the lesson, the teacher sharing the Word, written and spoken in their heart language-one that is so foreign to me. Some dutifully take notes, others look deep with their thoughts taking God's word in.

Our time is closing and it's time to end in prayer. We bow our heads and I'm overwhelmed with this feeling...a feeling that takes me back to a time at the Navajo Indian Reservation, in a small group in Romania, a time in Hungary...the feeling that I know we're talking to the same Person. A feeling that never gets stale and I hope never will.

The prayer concludes and I think we're done, until an older woman sitting across from me immediately begins speaking. Not knowing what she's saying, I watch as the women around her, gather, tears are filling their eyes as she speaks. The concern on their faces isn't missed. The next thing I know, this woman across the table is extending her hand out to mine and we're all praying again. Me...the outsider is now enveloped in this group.

Next to me I hear, whispered in broken English, "Her mother in Vietnam...she is old...she has fallen and it doesn't look good..."

During these next moments, language barriers are meaningless and hearts connected. We have somehow become united as we are all daughters with concerns and love for our families. We're also daughters of our Heavenly Father. A loving Father who sees our hearts, feels our pain and hears our prayers in every language and doesn't need a translator...He understands every word.