Ye shall have a song

"Ye shall have a song, as in the night when a holy solemnity is kept, and gladness of heart, as when one goeth with a pipe to come into the mountain of the Lord." (Isaiah 30:29) (Also this)


About two weeks ago, I caught some sort of virus that has decimated my ability to speak without a coughing fit. So, on the advice of my section leader and other smart people, I am on vocal rest for the time being. Living alone and being an introvert, I'm used to going for hours or even a whole day without speaking out loud to anyone. It's easy when I'm by myself. It's a lot different at work. I get frustrated that people don't ask the right questions. I don't have enough time to write my response on the little white board I carry around (like Buffy!). I have to let opportunities go by to make a comment when I normally would have spoken up. I wish I could just text everybody.

The reason why I am not speaking now is because I am completely terrified of something happening to my voice. Like getting nodules and having to have surgery, which could seriously screw with my instrument, even if it goes well. I can't have that. I need my voice. There is nothing that I know how to do as well as I know how to be a choral singer. It is a deep intimacy, the sense of not quite knowing where the sound of my voice ends and the sounds of Katherine and Sara on either side of me begin. Have you ever stood in a room with 65 people and, without a visual cue or direction, you all took a breath at the same time and began singing as one? As if you were all reading each other's minds? It's kind of amazing. Or how about the sweet moment in worship band practice when the instruments cut out for a moment and all you hear is me and Dain and Heather belting out a tightly tuned triad with all our hearts? IT IS SO GREAT. Singing is a stress reliever and a source of joy. I can't imagine who I would be, how I would get through a year, without the ability to sing. I know there is much greater suffering in the world than that, but would God really be THAT cruel to allow my voice to be taken away by a stupid cold? (Obviously. He's allowed much worse.)

So, if it means muddling through a few days of work with hand signals, smiles, and clarifying follow-up emails, in order to save something so important to me, so be it. Maybe I'll set up an overhead projector in my office for the really complex conversations.