LOST...and FOUND

The past couple of days I’ve been very congested. Last night was terrible, I could hardly breathe and I could feel my chest getting heavier with congestion as the night progressed. This morning I woke up, and have no voice. Nothing. Not even a whisper escapes. So, I trudge around the house feeling like I have an extra 20 pounds on top of my lungs, wheezing along, wondering why I even got out of bed. (Well, of course I know why…because I can’t call in sick to my job.)

It’s days like these that make me realize a few things.

One: When Mom doesn’t have a voice, the kids also decide that mom’s eyes, ears, and brain are also dysfunctional, and therefore it is an “anarchy day” to do as you like as fast as you can.

Two: When Mom doesn’t have a voice, Zippy the cat thinks he rules the roost. Well, secretly, Mom thinks he ALWAYS thinks that, but on days when she can’t yell at him to “get down,” “I’m not playing now, Zippy!”, and “Zippy leave the goldfish alone!” he just simply turns a deaf ear to her miming techniques and does as his feline brain sees fit.

Three: When Mom doesn’t have a voice, the phone doesn’t have to be answered. See? Losing your voice isn’t always a bad thing. No, the phone can ring all day if it feels like it, and Mom can just sit and smile at it, knowing that she's not neglecting any duty, she's not shirking responsibilities, and she's not cowarding away from the “do you think you could help with….” phone calls that always find their way through any calling filter system. No, she doesn't even have to answer messages because she simply cannot talk.

Four: When Mom doesn’t have a voice, she doesn’t have to make telephone calls. Nope. The Young Women will wait, Recognition/Broadcast Night will wait, the school will wait, the appointments will wait, the visiting teaching will wait, the bills will even wait, Idaho will wait, everything... Will. Just. Wait.

Five: When Mom doesn’t have a voice, she has a temporary vacation from those inquisitive, bizarre, and sometimes unanswerable questions that come from her three talking children. Questions like, “Mom? When the Sun comes around the corner of the N. Pole, how long does it take for it to hit Cleveland?” “Mom? Why is daddy always putting crowns on people’s teeth? You have a few crowns. Did your dentist give you your crowns? Why are your crowns so big? Do they fit in your mouth?” “Mom? If Heavenly Father created the dinosaurs, and He loves everything that He creates, why did He let them die?” or, “Mom? If you’re so happy, then why are your eyebrows coming down and making lines in your head?”

Hmm. No, she gets a vacation from all of that. She simply has to shrug her shoulders, point to her throat, and smile sweetly. Not bad.

Sometimes, it takes a small thing like us losing our voice to compel us to quiet down and realize what all the voices around us are saying. It takes a small thing like us losing our voice to help us realize which questions should be answered, which phone calls should be made, and what directions should be given to those around us…a small thing…but very profound.