When a mother gives birth, the placenta leaves a large wound that bleeds until healing. Her uterus also has to reshape itself after stretching to accommodate the baby. Typically six weeks is seen as an expected time of healing. Typically the mother is thrilled to have a baby, yet also feels the surprising sense of separation inherent in no longer carrying the child internally.
Over the next 18 or so years as the child grows in all dimensions, the mother's heart is stretched to accommodate. When the child leaves home, an invisible wound occurs as she adjusts to the physical absence of this once baby. Her heart has to figure out how to adjust to the new separation, how to reshape itself to this new reality.
Society doesn't easily recognize this adjustment. Many people rejoice in the change, and many who ask about it expect the new empty nester to be thrilled with the freedom gained. Like the original birth, joy comes with the change, and yet, nevertheless, a wound that weeps as it tries to heal.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Shouting in Silence
Zechariah suffered in silence for nine months, until John the Baptist was born. It's only been days for me since I lost my voice, but I have a few things to "say."
As best as I can remember, this is my third experience with laryngitis. The first time was around Christmas, and I had a wedding to perform. I delegated what I could to my husband to say, but then as the pastor and officiant, I had some pieces required of me. The couple dubbed their video the miracle of the voice as my voice grows stronger while I'm speaking.
This Sunday God did another miracle, in a sense two. I awoke hoarse and concerned, rallied my family to pray, knowing I needed my voice to both preach and leading singing. Our strongest singer was out of town, so my worship leading depended on my voice. I got through the whole service, which could have made me wonder if I had worried in vain, but by afternoon, my voice had left, justifying my conclusion that God had indeed spared my voice for the necessary moments.
However we still had our youth program, and I have been teaching the teen boys. They've been a bit of a challenge, so I couldn't hand that off to just anyone, but also knew I didn't have the voice to deal with them. I asked Brandon to help, thinking perhaps he could fill in for Roger with the preschoolers and Roger could tackle the older boys. Brandon is a young man who grew up in the church and with our family, who has completed his service in the Navy and is now in school.
Roger said to have Brandon do the teaching with the boys, since I would still be present to maintain order if needed. I prepped Brandon that we were doing Matthew 11:28-30, where Jesus invites us to exchange our heavy burdens for his light yoke. I told him to have them talk about their current struggles as well as concerns they might have about becoming men. As we started, the boys were all sitting quietly listening, instead of literally bouncing off the walls as they can. Brandon was explaining the passage, then started telling them about his life, being raised by a single mom with an alcohol problem. That's when I slipped from the room. He obviously didn't need me, and I thought they might have a better man talk without me.
How cool is God, I had my voice when I needed it in the morning, then losing my voice later pushed a circumstance that I would not have instigated otherwise. I will be gone next Sunday so I asked him if he'd help again. Two miracles in one day.
The other previous time I lost my voice I remember visiting my extroverted father and how frustrated he got that I couldn't talk to him. Quite frankly as an introvert, this doesn't bother me all that much. Silence appeals to me. But it does become a social problem. As I have traveled around doing errands this week, I often feel rude when I cannot simply respond in common courtesy to others.
This makes me think of those without a voice, deaf or mute, cut off from the typical communication around them. How isolating that must be.
On the up side, it's hard to complain without a voice. On the down side, it's also hard to communicate at all.
Last night I attended an Emmaus training where I am the "head" pastor. My associate had to fill in for me, which she is quite capable of. In many ways my unavailability helps others step up. No one is indispensable.
I don't have to preach this week, or lead worship, so that is good timing. However I am celebrating my oldest daughter's birthday with her sister, so I would love to be able to talk...but then again, this will leave plenty of time for me to listen!
I will enjoy being back in the world of communication again. Meanwhile, I am trying to learn what I can from the silence.
As best as I can remember, this is my third experience with laryngitis. The first time was around Christmas, and I had a wedding to perform. I delegated what I could to my husband to say, but then as the pastor and officiant, I had some pieces required of me. The couple dubbed their video the miracle of the voice as my voice grows stronger while I'm speaking.
This Sunday God did another miracle, in a sense two. I awoke hoarse and concerned, rallied my family to pray, knowing I needed my voice to both preach and leading singing. Our strongest singer was out of town, so my worship leading depended on my voice. I got through the whole service, which could have made me wonder if I had worried in vain, but by afternoon, my voice had left, justifying my conclusion that God had indeed spared my voice for the necessary moments.
However we still had our youth program, and I have been teaching the teen boys. They've been a bit of a challenge, so I couldn't hand that off to just anyone, but also knew I didn't have the voice to deal with them. I asked Brandon to help, thinking perhaps he could fill in for Roger with the preschoolers and Roger could tackle the older boys. Brandon is a young man who grew up in the church and with our family, who has completed his service in the Navy and is now in school.
Roger said to have Brandon do the teaching with the boys, since I would still be present to maintain order if needed. I prepped Brandon that we were doing Matthew 11:28-30, where Jesus invites us to exchange our heavy burdens for his light yoke. I told him to have them talk about their current struggles as well as concerns they might have about becoming men. As we started, the boys were all sitting quietly listening, instead of literally bouncing off the walls as they can. Brandon was explaining the passage, then started telling them about his life, being raised by a single mom with an alcohol problem. That's when I slipped from the room. He obviously didn't need me, and I thought they might have a better man talk without me.
How cool is God, I had my voice when I needed it in the morning, then losing my voice later pushed a circumstance that I would not have instigated otherwise. I will be gone next Sunday so I asked him if he'd help again. Two miracles in one day.
The other previous time I lost my voice I remember visiting my extroverted father and how frustrated he got that I couldn't talk to him. Quite frankly as an introvert, this doesn't bother me all that much. Silence appeals to me. But it does become a social problem. As I have traveled around doing errands this week, I often feel rude when I cannot simply respond in common courtesy to others.
This makes me think of those without a voice, deaf or mute, cut off from the typical communication around them. How isolating that must be.
On the up side, it's hard to complain without a voice. On the down side, it's also hard to communicate at all.
Last night I attended an Emmaus training where I am the "head" pastor. My associate had to fill in for me, which she is quite capable of. In many ways my unavailability helps others step up. No one is indispensable.
I don't have to preach this week, or lead worship, so that is good timing. However I am celebrating my oldest daughter's birthday with her sister, so I would love to be able to talk...but then again, this will leave plenty of time for me to listen!
I will enjoy being back in the world of communication again. Meanwhile, I am trying to learn what I can from the silence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
