My Voice

My Voice

I am a person who loves music. It fascinates me. Ever since I was a little kid, I have loved music. I remember a time when I was three years old; it must have been Easter Sunday, because the choir was singing the “Halleluiah Chorus” from Georg Handel’s “Messiah”. It was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. I knew then that I wanted to be a singer. I began to sing at three years of age. I sang all through my college years, in both church and school. However, I had a setback in my teens.

I had my tonsils taken out when I was 16. The recovery from the surgery was extremely painful. (My tonsils were swollen and there was a lot of scar tissue.) It took me months to recover. Even then, I never got my range back, and had to relearn to sing. It just wasn’t the same. Years later I went to see a specialist about my throat. The doctor explained that when my tonsils were taken out, the remaining tissue scarred during the healing process. The doctor glibly said to me, “We can’t fix it unless we take your head off.” I replied just as glibly, “David Copperfield you’re not.”

My hopes and dreams of becoming a professional singer were dashed. I knew that this damage was irreparable. There was nothing I could do. I would have to live with it. What do you do with your life when the one thing you wanted to do, your purpose for being on this planet is no longer an option?

Since I found out this news, I stopped singing. I can still sing a little bit; I sing for myself, for my kittens, in the house, in the car, wherever I want. I can change my voice and sound like many singers. If I’m not singing out loud, there is a soundtrack playing in my head.

I thought I was meant to be a singer. I thought that God put me on this planet to sing. Whether in church on Sunday, in a quiet rehearsal room, on a stage, it didn’t matter. I thought I was put on this Earth to sing. But I was wrong.

I have found my voice again, in my writing. It doesn’t fill a church with its resonance or make a crowd applaud. But I have a voice. It is in my poetry. My poetry is my song. My song soars through the air, dances among the stars, flies to the moon and back.

I didn’t know then what I believe I know now. I still have a purpose. I wasn’t put on this Earth to sing. I was put on this Earth to use my voice. In whatever medium I choose.

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