DISCOUNTED BY MAN, A TOOL IN GOD'S HAND

                
                        DISCOUNTED BY MAN, A TOOL IN GOD’S HAND
            It was not your usual audience.  To my right, an elderly man sat crumpled in a wheelchair, his eyes closed and his head drooped over one shoulder.  Towards the front, a lady sat wringing her hands, and softly moaning, “Where am I?  Please help me.”  Others sat smiling vacantly, lost in their own thoughts.
            A group of us were visiting a chronic care residence.  I was leading the sing-song.  We had already done “Daisy, Daisy”, “Frere Jacques” and several others.
            A group member whispered to me,” See that lady over there?  Her name is Violet*(not her real name).  She‘s been the soloist in the town choir for years.  You should ask her to do a number.”
            I considered.  It seemed to me that Violet was in the chronic care residence for a reason.  Most people there had severe mental and/or physical disabilities, and quite often Alzheimer’s disease.
            Against my better judgment, I asked her if she would like to sing.
            “I don’t have my teeth!” she stated with a scowl, and slumped back into her chair.
            Well, that was certainly that!
            Thrum-mm!  I strummed the beginning chord of the old song “I Believe”.
I remembered this song from my childhood, and thought it would be familiar to the residents.  I had practised it over and over in my chosen key. 
            Why, then, was I getting stuck on the line, “Ev’ry time I hear a new-born baby cry, or touch a leaf, or see the sky”?  I could not seem to find the ending to the song.  I was trapped, like the man who had to keep riding the subway around and around forever.
            Right then, a clear, if quavery, soprano voice floated through the air:
“Ev’ry time I hear a new-born baby cry
                 Or touch a leaf, or see the sky –

Then I know why I believe”.
Oh, yes, now I remember! The tune goes up there, and leads into the ending.
The singer was Violet.  She slumped back into her chair with the familiar scowl. 
She never sang again. 
But oh, what a moment of glory!


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