I was homesick again today. Homesick for a part of my life that I rarely experience anymore. It started at church, during a fireside, as we sang the hymn "The Spirit of God" . Every time I hear that song, it takes me back to my first sacrament meeting in the Deaf ward in California.
I have mentioned before that I am a CODA. This means I was lucky enough to attend church with a whole group of Deaf people - and it was a completely unique experience that I love to reminisce about. The first Sunday that we went was, in a word: awesome.
We walked into a small congregation of people, hands flying in varied conversations, before the meeting began. Our family took a seat in a row near the back of the room and waited for the 2 missionaries to arrive. We were greeted by no less than 20 different people, and then the service started. There were the usual formalities: a welcome, some announcements - and then the meeting began with a song - The Spirit of God. When the music director stood at the front of the congregation, hands ready, I remember a feeling of excitement and anticipation. As she led the group through the song, all hands in the room moving in unison to an unheard melody, I was mesmerized by the beauty of it all. And as the chorus came to the words, "...hosannah, hosannah...."a loud CLAP sounded throughout the room as every pair of hands signed the words.
I am homesick for the CLAP during that song. I still hear it in my head every time the song is sung - and it makes me smile. It makes me want to sign the chorus so much that I sometimes have to sit on my hands to control myself.
During the prayer that opened the meeting, I peeked around the room. Not an eye was closed. They all looked forward to the pulpit. To this day I have a hard time closing my eyes during a prayer. It seems to have so much more meaning when I can see the person who is saying (or signing) the words. (Give it a try sometime - no one will know.) I'm homesick for those all-eyes-open prayers.
I'm homesick for ASL conversations, for the brutal honesty that many Deaf people I know are ingrained with. (Sometimes. Because sometimes I don't want the honesty - the polite untruths are usually more comfortable.)
Anyway...I don't want to make this a novel.
Just wanted to say - I'm sort of homesick.
Doesn't everyone get homesick for something at different times in their life?