I lost my voice. It was springtime, there were allergies involved, and preparing for a preschool music program, and pushing myself to sing when I shouldn’t and it happened. The overly dramatic side of me calls it the death of a dream (go ahead and roll your eyes here). The more reality-based part of me simply calls it unfortunate, but either way, I was sad. I am sad. Because it just never really came back. I mean, my speaking voice returned eventually but I can’t sing anymore.
I know there is therapy for this, surgical options, etc. But since it isn’t my livelihood, I am reluctant to invest money and/or recovery time to repair the damage. So I have just sort of tried to “let it go” and move on. Accept what IS, and not dwell on what WAS. Or what I thought WOULD be. And it occurred to me recently that life is usually like that. The things that we find our identity in, the things we set out to accomplish or achieve, the idea of who and what we will be “one day”, all that stuff… It is uncertain. And temporary.
I don’t have any dreams of being a pop star, though I do like to make up lyrics to pop songs to make them relevant to “mom-life”. My favorites are “b-b-b-booger face, b-b-booger face” (Lady GaGa) and “This Diaper’s Bout to Blo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ow” (Ke$ha). I have others, but maybe that is a post all its own.
Anyway, as I was saying, it is interesting to look back on my life and the twists and turns it has taken. It isn’t anything like what I would have predicted… It isn’t anything like what I planned. But I can already see how God has closed chapters, and whole entire books, and started writing a new story in my life. Where I am not so much the main character that I once set out to be… But where His redemption and grace and mercy are the major themes. And the story has been messy at times. And beautiful at times. And gut-wrenching and heartbreaking at times. So far I haven’t reached that neatly tied-up happy ending like in a novel. There are still many chapters left to write, but I know the ending, and it is a happy one indeed.
So, as far as my voice goes, I guess I’ll have to lip sync to Pink in the car and remember fondly the days when a sound actually came out, but the one thing God has shown me through this little loss in my life is that I didn’t really lose my voice. I just have a different one now. It doesn’t have octaves or vibrato, but it is still black and white notes on a page. And the words on this page can be a lot like music sometimes, when they are an opening-up and offering-up of my messy little life. So I can be ok with my voice not singing, as long as my life does.