It is always worth asking, "Who speaks through us?

I hear voices all the time; rattling on inside my head; conversations, music playing...it used to concern me that perhaps all was not well concerning my mental state.  You know, I don't fret a bit about it anymore.  It's comforting and quite interesting.  

My mother began having me take singing lessons when I was a little girl...I've no idea why she wanted that for me...I certainly was not gifted with a great voice.  I was born with some problems and that bothered my mother...constantly.  She felt that my difficulties were her fault; that she had been negligent and caused them.  Not so, it had nothing to do with her but she was never convinced of that.

I think that's why she had me taking singing lessons to make up for what she thought was a drawback in my life.  There I was, taking voice lessons at the age of eleven.  My very first boyfriend was my voice teacher's son.  Dickie Lee was his name!  Yikes.  

When we moved to California, mother found me another voice teacher and I rode the public bus to my lessons.  My teacher had me singing light operas and I still sing those songs in my head.  

Fast forward to the age of nineteen when a blonde, extremely handsome hunk sat behind me in church one Sunday.  He had just moved to Texas and immediately went to work (on me as well as a paying job).  Our congregation had a radio program that M and I were part of.  Seems we made beautiful music together; one thing led to another and we married.  

We drove to Colorado for our honeymoon and sang all the way there and back.  Music was a big part of our lives and our four sons are all gifted with beautiful voices.  I took them to choral practice with me and they learned all the music...good little performers.  Our friends used to bribe them to do Stars and Stripes Forever!  Ha! 

I lost my voice as the result of a serious car accident so I sing like a frog...only worse.  Then when Michael's Parkinson's struck his voice began fading...and it so distresses him.  He thinks people don't like trying to talk to him 'cause they can't understand him.  It embarrasses him greatly.

So, we have voices on our minds; therapy didn't seem to fix the problem so he deals with it best he can and it's not easy.  

Our family has discovered his voice comes out full force when they sing w/him in his apartment.  This week they spent an hour and a half singing with him.  He began almost whispering and the more they sang the bigger his voice became and he didn't want to stop.  They did a video and it's a great success!  Love it.  Now we'll see what we can do to continue and keep his spirits up.  It's wonderful. 

Music is therapy.  Music moves people.  

It connects people in ways that no other medium can.  

It pulls heartstrings.  It acts as medicine. 

 Macklemore    

Being unable to sing hasn't really bothered me; I've found I'm using my voice in a different way...writing.  I've always enjoyed/loved writing and communicating w/words.   Michael encouraged me to write a weekly journal when we were in China.  So for two and a half years I wrote an article every week and sent it to family and friends in the U.S.  

Later on, as we settled down in Weatherford, he encouraged me to start a blog...as you are reading this...it was all his idea.  I find I can make a sort of music with words and it's wonderful therapy.  It has connected me with people everywhere and it pulls at my heartstrings.  It is medicine and I give God all the credit; after all, He is my physician...the best. 

Over time, I have come to believe that 'brave' 

does not mean that we think it does.  

It does not mean 'being afraid and doing it anyway.  'Nope.  

Brave means listening to the still small voice inside and doing as it says.  

Regardless of what the rest of the world is saying.  

Glennon Doyle Melton

Michael and I both hear voices; lots of voices.  We pay close attention...mostly to God and His voice, the Comforter that He left for us.  

While there are loud, clanging voices all around us I cannot let them into my peace of mind.  It isn't healthy for me.  You see, it's important that I am brave and listening to the quiet voice and do what I know is right.  Focus on what's going on, making the best of the situation...one day at a time, today is important.  

I am Michael's advocate; it's important that I keep my eyes on doing my best without losing my focus.  It takes time, it takes effort, it takes prayer...much prayer...it works, you know!   

I've found that when I step out my door, I am able to set the tone for the day.  I'm greeting everyone I see, smiling and saying something nice to them...about how handsome or beautiful they look and it makes such a difference.  Simply taking a moment to reach out and touch their shoulder or their arm...they don't think I'm going to attack them.  No Way!  

Nice things are music to people's ears...trust me, works magic and people go on their way with a smile for someone else.  

There was a big luau festival here yesterday; in both buildings and our activity director took it upon herself to draw M out of his room.  She ran over here, knocked on my door and was so excited she couldn't stand still.  She had on her grass skirt and all the trimmings...cute, cute and she had a video of M cavorting around the room.  Precious and it made my heart sing.  Great therapy.

Doesn't really matter what kind of voice one has; it does matter how one uses it.  Lots of people have problems with their voices.  Sign language is a voice.  Writing is a
voice.  People have trouble understanding me on the phone and I really, really try to speak clearly but I just simply have a funny kind of voice.  It has a husky tremor and that's that.  Sort of low, lower and lowest.  Woof!

Main thing is to use our voices in a way that is pleasing to the one who matters the most, 
God, my Father.   He knows best; every single time and He is pulling for us...24/7.

From my humming heart...to yours,   

Vasca