Way back in the day, I went to Westmont College. Every Easter break, almost half of the student body would go down to Ensenada, Mexico, for what is called Potter's Clay. I was fortunate enough to get to participate in this yearly adventure on the Mime Team. Now don't go picking up your pitchforks and torches, mime-haters. It wasn't exactly like that. We'd dress up in silly clothes and paint up our faces, then go from village to village acting out skits to music for the children of the area. Let me tell you, it was awesome! We were able to tell some pretty amazing stories without having to speak, which was great since none of us spoke Spanish. After the skits, we got to play with and love on the kids. I've learned that you don't have to know the language for kids to understand you. These kids who lived in shacks built out of cardboard and tin were so happy. Loving. Giving. I can still close my eyes and see the joy on those little faces. It was amazing. We'd always feel like we were the ones being blessed by being there.
But nighttime was different.
At night, we'd go to the churches and perform a skit. With words. Spanish words. We did use scripts, but it still wasn't easy. That year, we were performing The Ragman.
At the end of the skit, we'd exit the church singing that Alleluia song that just keeps saying Alleluia over and over. I tried to find it so you could hear it, but wasn't successful. Anyway, we'd encourage the congregation to sing along as we went out. Let me tell you, we heard an awful lot of "joyful noise" that trip. What the churches lacked in musical ability, they made up for in volume. And so it went.
Until one night when we heard the angels sing.
We were walking out singing, when the congregation joined in. Oh, it was glorious! Normally we'd have to take off right away so we could get to the next village on time, but none of us moved. We stood outside that church and listened to these amazing voices singing to God in a way that none of us had ever heard before. I've heard some fantastic choirs in my day, but none come close to what I heard that night. I truly am convinced that it was angels singing. Those voices rocked me to my core and lifted me up in a way I can't even begin to describe, other than to call it miraculous. I used to think that it must be a bit boring for the angels in Heaven who do nothing but sing praises to God. After hearing what I heard, I wonder how they could keep from doing it. Yes, I heard the angels sing that night. It was a gift from God. And I am truly blessed.