Sunday, April 13, 2014

A Guitar Down Under (2)

They were there every time. Quiet, thoughtful, and always seated at the back. I kept my eye out for them, and knew they would come.

These women were Australian Aborigines, and had heard I would be singing. I am not sure if they often came to concerts given by American ladies. But a small group of them would always be there, usually arriving as the music began, unobtrusively making their way toward the back. 
                     https://www.flickr.com/photos/thiru/7060105793/


The first time, I waited to meet them at the end of the evening when people gathered around the CD table, to chat or buy albums. As I chatted, I watched, but rather than approaching the table they left as quietly as they had come. After that evening I asked my host, what about those women at the back? Who are they, and where did they go?

"They are the Aboriginal women who are Christians and who wanted to hear your message. They don't often come, and won't probably come up to meet you. They will be quite shy. You would need to meet them instead."

https://www.flickr.com/photos/tianyake/3571336491/

So in the next town, I did not wait. Seated in the front row before the concert began, I watched as people were filing in. This time I would welcome them, get to know them just a little bit - but suddenly it was time to be introduced. Oh dear - not yet! What if I miss my opportunity? 

And then, a small group of Aborigines came through the side door. Different ladies from the night before, but a small group all the same. They slipped to the back, and settled in as I slowly stood and came their way. My host saw, and joined me there. She shook the hand of one of the ladies and introduced me, first to one, and then the next, and the next.

"How do you do? I am so glad you came," I said. Each lady smiled and shook hands and said their names. I invited them to stay afterward, if they had time.

All the way through that evening, I sang as if to them alone. In the faces of those ladies there was such a combination of reflections - wisdom, shyness, caution, perhaps modesty.  I was touched that they came, that they wanted to come. I knew by now some of the complicated issues surrounding the Aborigines. I knew it was not an easy road, sometimes fraught with difficulty. I knew I did not understand the difficulties. But I wanted to.

A certain song became a favorite throughout those weeks, wherever I went. Each time I sang it, I felt as if they, and others, sang with me:

Wounded Heart

My friend, I see the pain in your eyes,
Reflecting your wounded heart.
My friend, though I may not understand
What's tearing your world apart,

I'll be here, for two are better than one.
I'll be here, and when the battle is done,
Your heart will be healed in the heart of the Son
Where the war has already been won.

Dear love, you've got the witness of those
Who have traveled this road before.
But your God must be the One who will see
Your wounded heart restored.

And I'll be here, for two are better than one...

Consider Him who endured such pain and wrong upon Himself,
Gaze intently at Him, He knows where you've been,
And you'll make it through together.

And I'll be here...

Lyrics and melody copyright 1989
HeartSongs
https://www.flickr.com/photos/chewychua/88487196/

Those were moments I don't forget; will never forget. Sometimes I came to the end of the song and noticed my cheeks were wet. And so were theirs.

However far we may travel, dear Readers, whatever country we may find ourselves in, people's hearts will have been wounded. People's lives are fraught. We can carry the Message, can't we? Won't we?

He knows where you've been. You'll make it through together.


See you along the Way!
the SconeLady






photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tianyake/3571336491/">Tianyake</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thiru/7060105793/">Thiru Murugan</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/chewychua/88487196/">Chewy Chua</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">cc</a>

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