The weekend was approaching, one I was looking forward to. Mainly because during the weekend I would have a chance to sing praise songs with teens. There is something special about being in the chapel singing worship songs to the Lord. Especially being in a chapel full of teens who love the Lord.
The day before though, illness struck. The aches, the sore throat, the coughing, and laryngitis. I thought about not even attending the weekend, I figured they could manage without me. But my daughter was also going to be there and I really wanted to be able to serve with her. So I doctored myself up, and decided to go.
I managed to communicate slowly and quietly. Time came though to sing, there was no way I could do that. I wanted to praise God, and singing in my head just didn't have the same meaning for me. This was a time when I was grateful for sign language.
I use the signs I can remember when I sing. Even though my memory isn't the greatest at remembering the different signs. Still I try.
Singing with my hands when I didn't have a voice, still made the singing meaningful. I was still able to praise the Lord even though my voice didn't cooperate. The time was meaningful and filling, just as much as I hoped it'd be.
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