In my silence, you hear me, in my silence you use me, In my silence you understand what I’m trying to say…
It all started this past March. It seems like my voice was slipping away. I noticed that I couldn’t laugh as freely as I once could. I found it difficult to sing even simple songs with the worship team. And I couldn’t scream when an itsy bitsy spider came along.
Then, in July I finally went to an ENT to figure out what was going on with my voice. The diagnosis was that improper singing and talking had taken a toll on my vocal cords and I had developed vocal nodules. Thankfully, surgery was not needed, but complete vocal rest was still my road to a cure. On one hand I was glad I finally had a diagnosis for my strained vocal cords. The doctor said I would need at least one month of this rest – no whispering, no whistling, nothing whatsoever.
But on the other hand I thought this would be an impossible feat, especially with my job as a dental assistant, with all the talking I have to do behind a mask, triaging cases. Besides there was my missionary trip to Hungary coming up…this seemed impossible but with God all things are possible.
In my silence it seemed like no one understood. I felt left out and alienated from the conversations I wished I could have been a part of. Going to another country where we would be around people who might not understand me even if I wrote my words down, let alone read my lips. I’m sure many people thought I was deaf when they saw me making various signs to my husband. Some signs had to be made up as I went. Talking at night was especially difficult because my husband couldn’t see what my lips were trying to say.
Many people would put their ear to me thinking I was whispering – little do they know that makes it worse! I also noticed people would avoid me simply because I couldn’t talk back! I would say to them if I could, “Go ahead and talk, I can still listen and if I could have the luxury of conversing, I would.”
Because I couldn’t give simple instructions to my husband or give him a vocal “honey-do” list, the running joke from many was, “Your husband is a lucky man!” Not only was this hard to hear, but far from the truth. He had to do the talking for both of us and be face to face with me in order to converse. Many times I cried in frustration; merely writing words couldn’t fully get the point through to people.
Some good news during my trial helped me look on the bright side. I was on vacation for two weeks of the vocal rest and wouldn’t have to deal with patients unsuccessfully trying to read my lips through my surgical mask. And then, finally my time came.
On Aug. 20, the doctor was able to see me and use a scope to examine the vocal cords. The nodules were completely gone, I was healed! Praise the Lord! While I can talk again, I can’t sing yet. I pray I never take my voice for granted again. I must learn proper vocal exercises to warm up to before I make a joyful noise unto the Lord again. In my silence, He is my voice; in my weakness, He is my Rock.
