Stilled Voice

The human voice,
a beautiful, terrible, powerful, potentially annoying, always unique, amazing thing;
capable of great musical feats, the power to communicate, and the ability to reciprocate and respond,
the voice is a strong connection between Self and the World.
But alas, when a voice is lost -held captive by sickness or even sorrow, psyche or injury-
much of great worth is also lost, held away by a glass cage of inability!
My voice, my instrument that God gave, feels broken and futile
and aches to be whole again.
Weak and helpless, unable to control, unable to respond, what can I do but listen,
when I would rather sing?
But I listen, and the Sunday hymns surround me,
their words clearer to my mind while my heart sings their meaning and my voice lies silent.
"Tune my heart to sing Thy grace," says one, and it is true
for that is what I want, more than the service of only lips,
when my voice returns.
My voice is my power to be present and be known,
but is it more important to be known
or to know?
To know things proved once again in my helpless state:
that trials build strength, that every cloud has a silver lining,
that to be deprived of the means to utter praises
will give me more joy and gratitude when once again I sing,
for to sing is to be free from the inside out.
To sing is to give more beauty to ordinary words,
to make them noticed, remembered, and pondered;
to sing is to express in a fuller spectrum
the colors felt by the heart and seen by the ears;
to sing is to know and be known and to learn,
all at once.
But for now
ink and type fall, like tears translated,
into silent words on white pages sent off into the distance,
like doves, swans, or angels' wings,
with my message here being the sad song
sung silently,
and sent to heaven by a lost voice
waiting to be found again.





A bit melodramatic, I know, all this to say in an out-of-the ordinary way what it means to me to have the teacher's curse of laryngitis! Still, I mean it.

Ramblings after an unusual quest

Yesterday the sky was clear and blue, the mountains visible with clarity and the water of Saratoga Passage sparkling in the sunlight. During the precious bit of time between church and work, I went out to the E.B. Preserve to absorb some of that beauty. I parked further up the road and walked down to it, following the cheerful gurgling of the roadside stream down to the area with the covered picnic table, walking path, and boardwalk for wheelchairs. I went down the boardwalk a ways, and sat down on the edge to read a book for awhile. It is a peaceful place, best visited on days like this. The sun was bright but not warm, so when my behind and the rest of me were numb from the fresh chill air, I walked back up to the car and went home.
Today was also sunny and a pleasant day, a day off that I could have used to get many things done but ended up not; and that was fine. This past week I have been more productive: I went to the gym three times, got some things taken care of at school, and actually cooked a little. On Wednesday I fixed my craving for French toast -something I had messed up royally the last time attempted, but this time did the smart thing and used a recipe- and I forget which day it was, but I made my favorite Asian-style chicken noodle soup (my fingers smelled of garlic for days afterward!). The sesame noodles and vegetables was not entirely pleasing, but I ate it anyway... waste not, want not. Today was simple, blueberry pancakes and Arby's since I was out shopping late.
It turned out that the one thing I was hunting for required I go first to the Fred Meyer in Marysville and then to the Everett mall to find. It was an unusual quest: primarily I needed one of those disco lights that has colored lenses and makes colors swirl around the room, for the sake of adding some pizazz and fun to our school DDR night on Thursday (ask me later...). The secondary mission was to replace socks and unmentionables whose longevity has outlasted their intended life expectancy (but are now desperately needing to be retired from service), or that have disappeared altogether the way socks like to do.
I set out on my quest at dusk, heading east right toward the bright, nearly full moon making an early appearance among the few pink clouds. When I reached first the FM and eventually the mall, I allowed myself the luxury of window shopping, a diversion that woke my imagination up a bit. I even wandered into the Bath and Body Works and left smelling rather strongly of three scents I had tested, as well as weaving through a few gifts shops (one that turned out to be rather more pagan than just ethnic clothing store, and another that had nice wind chimes but little else of interest to me). I also found the disco light I was after, at the back of a shop I probably would never have voluntarily entered otherwise. The second mission was also completed, with much disgust at the price of unmentionables and the time spent trying to find the kind I preferred. The socks had been much easier.
Once home, I assembled and tested the disco light, and it was exactly what I had hoped for. Quest complete! As for the other items, they bring satisfaction too; after all, there is security in knowing that your black socks are actually black, will keep your toes from popping out, and the unmentionables will be able to do their job and not need to be mentioned!

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