The Bell

Do you ever have that moment when you look back and wish you could do certain things over again? A second chance to retrace and rewrite your story?

I am going to be bold here and say that every person over the age of eight has had these thoughts. I know I sure have. Last year, I started to lose my singing voice. I would wake up and it would be slightly more difficult to make the notes come out. Then my speaking voice was affected. I knew in my heart that God was telling me to rest and not push it. Knowing and doing; well those are completely different entities.

Rest is a four letter word for most of us. We push until we break sometimes. The ways of this world combined with our own high expectations of ourselves create a perfect setting for stress, anxiety, and a whole mess of other symptoms. Take a moment and think of a time that you ignored a gut feeling telling you not to do something. Now imagine how your life would be if you’d listened. Think of what you’d miss out on, in either situation.

In my case, when I lost the ability to sing and even speak last fall, I longed so badly for a time machine. For another chance to listen to that ever-present guiding voice telling me to take a break from all that I was over-doing. My lifelong love for performing, worshipping and teaching was all I’d known.

Suddenly losing the ability to do those things was tough enough, let alone raising kale! These kiddos require an audible voice to keep them safe, to teach them well, and to get over boo-boos in record time after an impromptu performance of  “Twinkle Twinkle.”

Instead of resting, I kept going. While my voice became weaker, I just kept pushing… with my time, my energy, and my stubborn ways. Enter- the bell.  My poor kiddos. I had been trying to save my voice for times I needed to use it, so by the time I finally “spoke up” it was an outburst. Looking into their sweet eyes made me so sad. So I thought this bell would help. It might just serve as an audible warning to listen up before mom resorts to squawking.

After 9 long months of dealing with doctors and diagnoses, home remedies, and the frustration of not being able to communicate well when I needed to, I finally opened my ears and my heart. I started saying no to things that weren’t absolute top priority on a given day. I stopped trying to do it all. I actually started to (cover your ears) rest! And Im happy to report that the whale spat me back out on the shore, despite my disobedience.

Ive learned so much about myself through this. I discovered that focusing on what we can’t do, instead of everything we are able to do, is so debilitating. In the nick of time, before overwhelming despair consumed me, I chose surrender. I chose to allow the hard stuff to come, and to get through it one moment at a time. I filtered who I surrounded myself with, and I ended up with loved ones who were perfectly content just hanging out in silence.

I play outside now more than ever. My kids are quieter and more joyful. I have extended patience for people and situations that I certainly wasn’t in possession of prior to this trial. So whatever you are going through, don’t try to rip that chapter out of your life story. Instead, savor every black letter on that white page. Turn to the next chapter slowly.

If you put the book down and later pick it back up to discover the pages won’t turn backwards or forwards, just keep re-reading where you are. Live there for a bit, even if it hurts. Find out what the main focus of this part in the plot is trying to teach the reader, and learn from it. No matter how tempting it is, don’t put that book down too long, because life is fast, its meant to be lived well and fully. Oh the journey to the end- well its unwritten. Choose happy.