Bats


Amos our dog needed walking just after dinner last night, so I took him for a stroll down the street we live on. Normally, I take him down a nearby street’s public sidewalk but last night I wasn’t feeling up to the traffic noises and busyness—better to just amble a bit through the neighborhood and enjoy the last bit of light before dusk faded to dark.

I wasn’t feeling so great— I had a monster headache and was looking forward to getting back to the house and trying to get into bed. Letting Amos sniff everything in sight takes some time, so I was looking at the sky, the moon a perfect thumbnail growing brighter with every passing minute. There was a soft, cool breeze, and I could feel the tension in my head ease just a little bit.

Something small and birdlike zipped right over my head, then again, and looking around in wonder I saw at least 10 bats swooping and chasing through the air all around me. They were graceful and their movements gave the impression of delight in their dance as they wheeled, circled, dived, and soared.

For just a few moments, headache forgotten, the stress of the day lifted, and I simply marveled. Beautiful.

No more nodules. The voice rest worked! I’ve been given permission to speak, I can sing lightly this week, and then try a bit more for next week. Hooray for me!

I’ve noticed it’s a bit easier for me to be a little less verbal in a few conversations this week… surely that’s one good lesson learned from imposed silence. (I don’t know if my coworkers would agree, but I noticed that I wasn’t saying everything that popped into my head.)

During the weeks of voice rest I began to feel a bit blue and then began to feel unmotivated to stay busy and get things done. That has thankfully lifted. The best part is being able to speak with my family. I missed the intimacy that conversation brings to relationships and was feeling disconnected.

I still have a little way to go vocally, but I truly feel like the sun has come out from behind the clouds.

In an earlier post I mentioned that I was on voice rest due to a bad case of laryngitis. Since then I’ve been to the ENT and found that from teaching on it I have vocal nodules. The way to get rid of them is to be silent for an extended period of time. So, I’m quiet until further notice. I have a recheck next week to see if they are diminishing, but I may not be allowed to sing for quite a while, because they can come back if I’m not careful. Thus, voice therapy will be required after the voice rest. This week has been Spring Break, so I’ve had a rest from teaching, and I’ve had some young friends over to help with Marla, which has made voice rest pretty much achievable.

Being silent is challenging. If I have something to say, I must write it down. This is frustrating, for often when I’m writing, people tend to finish my thoughts for me, which sometimes makes me feel like just not writing anything at all, as the thoughts no longer feel like my own. Writing takes time, which is hard for the less patient people in my life, who then get frustrated with me because a simple conversation takes more time than they are prepared to invest.

Being silent is also a blessing as I’m learning to be a better listener. I’ve mentioned before that I’m a talker, and have learned that I tend to talk more than listen. I do hope that lesson carries far beyond voice rest.

I’m trying to find humor in it day to day. Charades can be fun with those in my life who like to play, and my coworkers at church have had great fun with my handicap in meetings. We’ve all played with ispeech during worship planning, experimenting with different goofy voices, and laughing over the way the computer doesn’t always get it right. Even though it’s hard to be quiet, these friends have helped me smile and laugh at myself in the midst of the frustration.

So, here’s to silence—may it prove to be golden.