All my life I have been surrounded by music. My mother had a beautiful soprano voice and sang every Sabbath at church in one capacity or another. My brother sang and although I haven’t heard him sing for a long time, what I remember was a voice with a soft, mellow depth.
I inherited my voice and never really had to work at singing. It seemed that I just opened my mouth and the sound came out, strong and clear. Like my mother, I was a soprano and started singing up front in church when I was about nine years old. I have sung in groups, choirs, and as a soloist for almost my whole life.
At one point, near the end of my school years in academy, I considered auditioning to sing with The Heritage Singers. But later, at another point, I auditioned, not with The Heritage Singers, but with a worldly agent in hopes of succeeding in the music industry. Music was an incredibly large part of my life and I had people everywhere I went who commented on and complimented me regarding my voice. I don’t believe that I became a “diva,” but I will confess that it became more and more difficult not to want to pursue fame and fortune in the music industry in the midst of all this praise.
But one day I developed a cough. It got worse and I went to the doctor to see what it could be. He made his diagnosis and prescribed some medicine that stopped the cough and for several years things went well.
And then the cough returned only worse, much worse. My first doctor had retired, so I went to my new doctor and asked for an increased dose of my medicine. He doubted the original diagnosis and ran a battery of tests and procedures. It was something else, something that had done its work in silence and without detection, something bad that left my lungs permanently damaged.
To make a very long story short, during the process of making the new diagnosis, a surgical procedure paralyzed my left vocal cord; and that ended my singing, at least at the time. For three months I could barely talk above a whisper or if I did, the sound sometimes came out like the honk of a goose or a high-pitched, silly sound.
My mother prayed for me, and she got all her friends to pray for me, and one morning, three months later, my voice was back; not a whispery or silly-sounding voice, just me. However, I could no longer sing the really high notes I had reached before, nor did I have the breath to “raise the roof off the church” as described by one pastor from many years ago.
I don’t think I sing well or sound very good anymore, but I made a covenant with God. Singing was a talent He had given to me and He had, for a short time, taken away, likely to save my life, more spiritually than physically. I committed to use what He had given back to me in His service, singing when needed or asked, if He would make whatever came out of my mouth to bring glory to Him and not to me. I asked Him to send angels to sing with me so that it would always be a blessing to those who heard. I continue to faithfully fulfill that commitment, because He faithfully provides the angels.
“Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass.” Psalm 37:4, 5