It’s inevitable. It’s Spring. I know it’s going to happen it’s just a matter of when. My kids always found great amusement in teasing me when it would happen.
“Is that a mouse in the house?”
“Too bad mom isn’t up and calling me to leave because I’m
totally ready.”
I would try to respond, but only a squeak or a hoarse whisper
would be returned.
This losing my voice thing has always been with me. I don’t know the medical cause. I’m sure someone who gets paid more than me
could figure it out, but since it comes and goes I’ve never felt compelled to
solve it. Give it a day of not talking,
some tea with honey and lemon and it will return.
As a writer, it shouldn’t make much difference. After all, writers use words on paper, not
verbally. It’s the perfect opportunity to use talent instead of vocal cords.
This time, however, it occurred to me that not only did I
lose my voice verbally, but I have lost my voice on paper. That’s a much greater problem.
I looked back on my blog and see there are scant posts for
the last several years. No attempts to
explain, interest, engage, or exist outside of my bubble have been made. I didn’t realize it was happening.
So, how did I lose my writing voice? I became very intensely involved in teaching,
mentoring, guiding, and helping a school and all of the people in that
community.
It wasn’t a bad thing.
In fact, it was often quite good.
I watched several students find their purpose, their voice, their talent. That is the real reward of teaching. I poured my time and ability into them. I wrote the best lesson plans I could. I found activities to stretch them and bond
them together. I searched for
opportunities to pull them out of their circumstances to see the greater good
in the world.
I watched the K-8 school slowly expand to high school adding
one grade level at a time until this year there will be high school graduates. I’m so proud of the progress. I’ve worked
with colleagues that stretched their own imaginations and abilities to create tools
to build successful students. We cried
together over losses, laughed with each other in joyful celebrations, and dug
up old mindsets to create growth.
It has been a wild and rewarding ride.
All of those good things were good. But it didn’t leave time or energy to
write. The miasma of activity circled me
and pulled me higher and higher into its grasp.
There was no time to think, no time to play, no time for relationship
building outside of the work.
It’s what was needed.
It’s what was required. It’s what
was important. Until it was done.
Now, in the stillness after the rush, I hear the words
pulling me to paper again. Perhaps this
is the season of my life where writing will give back enough to keep body and
soul together. Or, perhaps, this is the
season when the words will bring rest to my exhausted spirit.
A good cup of tea with a dollop of honey and a splash of
lemon will soothe my voice and help me to speak again. A good hour of prayer with a dollop of
reading and a splash of music will soothe my soul and help me to find words
again.
Have you lost your voice?
I recommend you take some time out to rest, refresh and renew in the One
who gives life.
