ye of little voice

I do not have a voice.  

Perhaps more accurately, I have a very soft voice.  This is unusual, as I'm generally easy to hear (understatement) and frequently heard (although understood may be less frequent).   Right now, I can barely whisper.  My vocal chords have just ceased to function.  

This happens to me from time to time.  It's usually due to a combination of a cold, stress, feeling nervous about needing to speak in front of a group, and lack of sleep.  Check, check, check, and check.  So, while I'm slightly annoyed at my current predicament, I'm not too concerned.  It's nothing some rest and time won't cure.

I lost my voice on my wedding day.  It was highly ironic, considering it was the one day of my life that seemed really important to say something.  The mere fact that my voice was gone added to my nerves, which of course eliminated my voice altogether.  By the time of our evening wedding, I couldn't create more than a breath of sound.  Our pastor reassured me that he'd hold his microphone close to me during the vows...  and, he reasoned, God hears our hearts - not just our voices.  That part seemed highly philosophical to me at the time, and not very reassuring, so I was glad for the mic that meant at least my groom (standing inches from me and holding my hand) would be able to hear me say, "I do."

And so, as our wedding began and I entered a place one last time as a single woman, I remember feeling a rush of calm and joy.  From the moment I saw Mr. Kenobi standing a few short yards from me and married life, I no longer worried about details, or other people's happiness or accommodations, nor even how anyone might hear that I love this man and want to combine my life with his.   It was good.

So, I wasn't worried anymore when asked those fateful (and careful chosen) words of, "do you...?"  For the first time in nearly two days, I opened my mouth to speak and words came out - clearly, loudly, and enthusiastically.  I think I was as surprised as anyone, and especially because (with that lovely mic), it was really loud!  I Do.  I really, really, do.

With that, my voice came and went.  Like a divine provision, I was able to speak two words - highly significant and timely words - and then resume a scratchy, barely audible level of conversation for the remainder of the evening and weekend.  Friends and family mostly read my lips as I thanked them for being part of our celebration.  Parents hugged me and understood that I loved them, even if I couldn't say so out loud.  

In some marriages, a bride retains her vocal functions, but loses her voice after a wedding.  Many women around the world know this fate.  There are times when I wish I couldn't speak - or wouldn't have spoken - but I'm thankful to be allowed a strong, opinionated, and mostly joyous voice in my life and relationships.  I'm also afforded the gift of gracious ears from many others - especially Mr. Kenobi & the Obi's.

So, today my voice is gone.  Tomorrow, perhaps, I will speak again.