Whispers

A teenage girl leans in to a close friend and whispers about the boy she likes.  A child reaches up and pulls down his dad's head to whisper his desire for ice cream.  Husbands and wives whisper their love for one another in the darkness of night.  During a concert, a proud mother whispers to her guest that her child has the next solo.  

Whispers are for two people.  We do not speak in whispers when we want others to hear.  We might speak quietly if we want only a small group to hear, but we do not whisper.

Yet this week I am learning about another kind of whisper.  Friday night I lost my voice.  After that, only whispers escaped my lips.  Any attempts to vocalize caused pain.  I have lost my voice before, and it has usually returned in a day or two.  This time is different.  Four days later I am still without a voice. I can only speak in whispers.

Whisper a prayer in the morning.  Whisper a prayer at noon.  Whisper a prayer in the evening to keep your heart in tune. 

So goes the song.

Yes, I have whispered my prayers all through the day.  Whispered prayers are as effective as those I have prayed with a loud voice, and maybe even more so, depending on the state of my heart.  My inability to communicate with others has given me more time for prayer.  Whispers work in my prayers to God, and I love the fact that He can hear my whispering heart even if everyone else is crying out to Him with a loud voice.  Whispers work in my prayers.

But there are so many times when whispers do not work well.  When I am out on the street, desperate to catch a child's attention because of an oncoming vehicle, a whisper will not do.  When I am in church and everyone around me is lifting their voices in praise to our Almighty God, my little whisper is not enough.  When I am out on the street inviting children to Vacation Bible School, parents eye me suspiciously when they hear me whisper to their children.  Yesterday, in a large group of people, I wanted to chime into the conversation, but a whisper is not heard over the buzz of friendly banter.  I cannot even give directions from the back seat of a vehicle.  Obviously, I cannot teach so long as I am voiceless.

I am sometimes called a quiet person, yet I am realizing how vocal I really am.  Everywhere I turn, I find that I miss using my voice.  I want to be able to call out a greeting to a neighbor on the street, thank a child effusively before she runs off again to play, and join in the conversation around the table.  But most of all, I miss being able to sing, to lift my voice in praise to the God I love.

For that, whispers will not do.