Last Monday I returned from a week away at CREDO, and on Tuesday was slammed with a nasty bug of some kind, probably something I picked up on the plane. Wednesday was my first clue that this bug was serious: I began to lose my voice, something that hasn’t happened since 1993. But you don’t need a voice to write the sermon, right?
The week at CREDO had been a time to assess my health in four parameters of life: spiritual health, vocational health, physical health, financial health. We had been encouraged to develop a CREDO plan, in which we set goals and objectives in each of these areas. So, as I began working on the next Sunday’s sermon, I also spent time thinking about how I would implement my CREDO plan. Not too surprisingly, one of the themes running through my CREDO plan is: How can I maximize my time and energy for writing? What are the things that keep me from finding my writing voice?
As I worked my way through a sermon outline, and also a box of Kleenex, my voice went from throaty to non-existent. I posted as my Facebook status “I lost my voice.”
One friend, a clergywoman who lives close by, took the word “voice” at it’s obvious physical level and offered to preach in my stead if I needed it. God bless Lucy. Another friend, one with a more metaphysical inclinaton asked, “did you lose your Voice or your voice?” God bless Stacie too.
Losing my physical voice on the heels of pondering my metaphysical voice for a week made me wonder if God was playing a little joke, just to check whether or not I was paying attention. I get it, I told God. As the days went by in a haze of throat lozenges and rumpled sheets, I did think to add a postcript to my message to God: Is there anything else you want to make sure I don’t miss?