Every time I lose my voice I wonder: Is it a lesson? is it a maturing experience? is it random? or is it simply a providential but temporary rest for those around me who are easily annoyed by the persistent hum of an excitedly arrogant me? From certain angles, it might be on of these. Perhaps I need to learn the humility that comes with losing one of your favorite instruments. Perhaps. Maybe I just really needed the solitude set forth by being mute. Maybe. People sort of stop talking to you after a while when they realize you'll only reply with a (what you hope is anyways) a roguish smile and a knowing head nod. Or a shoulder shrug saying, I could tell you, but it hurts. People.
Probably it is none or all of these things. As my daddy points out in the sunday school classes he frequently teaches, it is so very often not a question of either/or, and quite very often a question of both/and. He also likes to say that in writing, the word very should be replaced by a cuss word and then all the profanity removed. Probably he is right. Probably.
And as my voice comes back I am certainly thankful for the homegrown honey that my distant cousins in North Carolina sent with us at the Family Reunion. Ahh, honey-lemon tea.
PS. Kaitlin I will do better in the future to post more frequently.
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