This morning I did something I haven't done in twenty-four days: I walked into Audrey's and Luke's rooms and loudly bellowed, "GOOOOOOOOD morning! Time to wake up!" and then proceeded to sing them a round of "Rise and Shine and Give God the Glory, Glory." It was serious deja vu to my time as student ministry camp chaperone. (Why yes, in fact, the teenagers DID love me! How did you guess?!)
When Audrey and Luke heard me they didn't even roll over and groan. In fact, they bolted upright in bed and squealed with delight. Now before you think my kids are just super morning freaks like their mama, let me explain. They were ecstatic because this was the first time they'd heard my full, regular voice in over three weeks. After the flu, I got a terrible bout of bronchitis and laryngitis and it stripped me of my voice. I hadn't been able to speak to them in my full, regular voice for twenty-three days. TWENTY-THREE DAYS. Let that sink in for a moment.
Parenting.
Luke.
With little to no voice.
For three weeks.
They missed hearing me so badly. I missed talking to them. Ours is a house of words, y'all. We may miss the mark on a lot of things, but we communicate the heck out of stuff with our kids. We always have. I remember the strange looks I would get when someone would pass me in the store and I would be talking to six month old Audrey like she was a forty year old friend.
So here I was, limited to nonverbal gestures and whispers for the first two weeks (which the doctor cautioned against doing because it actually strains the vocal chords more.) I would write or type things out with David and Audrey, but obviously that didn't work with Luke. Clapping, snapping, and "psssttt" become commonplace attention grabbers the kids knew to listen for. The last week brought about a deep, broken hoarseness that worked a lot better, but still wasn't me. What began as an annoying inconvenience turned frustrating and disheartening rather quickly.
Most days we managed. I'd try to keep quiet and nod or signal "okay" when I could. Other days, like the one when I lost sight of Luke in a store and started calling him as loud as I could with no sound coming out, were terrifying. I found him about 60 seconds later, looking down and playing "don't step on the crack," blissfully unaware that he'd even wandered away. He got a huge hug and the whisper-lecture of his life.
When you're as quiet as I've had to be, you have an awful lot of time to think. God has definitely taught me some lessons about my words and the importance of them these last few weeks. I spent time reading scripture about the tongue and how hard it is to tame. That very same day I also used what little voice energy I had to pass on a not-very-flattering comment about someone when I was chatting with a friend. The moment I whispered it to her I thought "SERIOUSLY, Heather? You have such limited vocal strength and you choose to spend it on that?!" Mercy. I certainly can't claim that the lessons God was teaching me always sank in right away.
But over time, I DID actually absorb some things. Wonder of wonders. I noticed that I nagged a lot less because I didn't want to waste my breath. I didn't tell Luke to hurry as often as I usually do. I would tell the kids to do something once and then actually give them a chance to comply without repeating myself. (Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.) I tried to think about my answers to their questions carefully so I could give them concise, easy-to-understand responses. I had them take turns praying on the way to school instead of me always doing it and asked Audrey to read the Bible stories at night when David was out of town, which was good for them. I tried to be thoughtful and intentional in my questions about their days at school. When I forced a whisper, I tried to use words of encouragement instead of criticism. I always made strength to eek out "I love you", but found that "clean up your mess" sometimes wasn't worth it. (Although I could usually manage to clap and point for that one.)
These last few weeks haven't been easy, but they've taught me a great deal. I need to make my words count. I need to listen more. It took me losing my voice to understand the power it holds. And as a parent it holds a tremendous amount. I hope that lesson, along with my voice, sticks around for awhile.
No Comments Yet, Leave Yours!