Mute

They say "you don't know what you have until it is gone". Gone is my voice, my friend, my ability to share all the many words that show up in my head. It's been 14 hours since I woke up and found out that my vocal cords had decided to take some time off. Vacation? I don't know. It has been a long day without the ability to communicate with language.

There are some noises that still come out. When I cough for instance. Ironically I found that I can still say "shhhhh" which doesn't come in handy too much. I had no idea how much I have to say. It is when you can't talk that you find out how much you really wish you could talk.

It reminded me of a recent meeting I had with a person who is in a world of hurt. She is heartbroken and there is very little comfort that I had for her. Her pain is deep and the wound is at the soul level. She knows God exists but has no interest in discussing matters of the soul. So we talked and stayed at the surface level. I prayed as we spoke and asked God for wisdom on how to share Him with her. Each time I spoke of God it was almost as if you could see the words fall from my mouth right to the floor.

She didn't seem to even hear them and had ignored each opening I offered. All I could think was that I was holding this incredible treasure in my hands, right in front of her, and she could see it but did not want it. It was as if she saw it but decided there might be something better out there and if she took it she might miss a better treasure that might exist somewhere. All the time I'm thinking, "THIS IS IT! This is THE treasure you are looking for. All you have to do is accept it." But she passed on it and left.

Back to my inability to speak. There are these precious thoughts in my head, pearls of wisdom, and yet they are trapped there and I can't share them. Sometimes I can manage a few words but they come out in an almost inaudible whisper. My sweet husband works hard to hear and understand what I need. I try to remember some of the sign language I learned years ago but why. No one around me will understand the signs. I manage to say "thank you" in sign language to a kind waitress and I think she maybe knew what I was saying. This small recognition from a stranger gives me a little hope.

So I drive the car for nine hours without being able to yell when someone cuts me off. Without being able to have a conversation with my husband. Without being able to sing out loud to my favorite songs. It was a very long trip. We arrive in WI to see family. We are at the rehab center and I can't even say "hi" to my dear father-in-law who may be in the last few days of his life. My heart hurts as I can't answer the many questions family ask, "how are the kids?", "how is your precious grandchild?", and even "are you okay?".

No I am silent and listen as my husband explains I can't talk and answers the questions in words I wouldn't have used. I am sad and think about my good friend Kiersten. I see her in my minds eye looking right at me, putting a finger to her lips and saying "hmmmm".

I know that that means. That is always her way of saying, "wonder what God is teaching you here". Which I have now been asking myself for 14 hours and have found no answer. The Bible verse "be still and know that I am God" comes to mind. Well perhaps being silent is not the same as being still. Actually I would have to say it absolutely is not the same thing.

Soon I will going to bed. I wonder if speech will return to me in the morning. I pray it will.

Written Thursday evening 4/9/09