5 Little Words
I went to find Pastor Debbie after church and just as I started speaking, she stopped me and said five little words that wrecked me; she said, “I just love your voice.”
She had no idea of the physical pain I carry constantly in my throat. She had no idea of the vocal injury. She had no idea of the shame and loss I carried. She had no idea how hard it was for me to initiate conversations because I was embarrassed about how I sounded.
All she knew was she just loved my voice and she was kind enough to tell me.
Her words wrecked me.
A few weeks after she said those five little words, an employee at work said the exact same thing. I led a meeting and the next day she sent me a message that said, “I just wanted to tell you I love to listen to you speak! Your voice is soothing and comforting.”
She also had no idea of the injury either – she just knew my voice comforted her.
I’ve written often about a vocal injury I sustained in 2018 – my vocal cord was paralyed after a traumatic event. I don’t talk about the event itself very often; however, as I approach the 2 year anniversary, I find that grief still rests just under the surface of the face people see.
In my current position, I am blessed with the opportunity to mentor leaders and present workshops. I say as often as I can and to anyone that will listen that I am a better wife, mother, friend, sister, leader, interpreter, and person because of the leaders I have served with for the past 14 years. I love my job and I love what I do.
In early November 2018, a team from Samaritan’s Purse / Operation Christmas Child came to Texas to film Alathia’s story about the purses she crocheted. (Read the OCC story and watch her video here.) I took the entire day off of work and for the first time – probably ever – I was completely unplugged. I didn’t take a call and I didn’t check my email. I put my phone away and just sat by Alathia. At the end of a very long day, she sat in my lap – something she hadn’t done in years – and said something that had a profound impact on me: “Mom, thank you for just being my mommy today. I needed that.” With those words, I had an epiphany.
I had struggled for over a year with my relationship with my supervisor at the time. Simply said, our personalities were not an easy fit. When Alathia thanked me for being her mom that day – it was like a veil slipped from my eyes and for the first time since Donald became my supervisor, I saw him as a gift. It was because of him that I unplugged that day.
The day after Alathia’s filming, I apologized to Donald. I asked his forgiveness for not always honoring him as my supervisor. I shared what it meant to me to unplug and thanked him. I explained what a gift he had given me. He was genuinely touched – he said as much – and the next 3 weeks working for him were an absolute joy. We laughed daily. I asked for and welcomed his help. When Alathia’s video was published a few weeks later and I shared it with him, he told me her story touched him. We bonded over our kids. I began to see how he was helping me grow when only weeks before I only felt restricted. I was settling in and looking forward to how he was going to grow me as a leader. I was excited about what was ahead.
I had no way of knowing when we were laughing together outside of my station early in the morning on Tuesday, November 28th that it would be our last conversation. I knew he didn’t feel well – he said as much when I asked him – but he brushed it off. He just thought he needed to rest.
The day turned out to be a record one at work. It wasn’t uncommon for us to not talk throughout the day; however, late that afternoon, I felt an urgency to talk to him. I know now it was the Holy Spirit – but at the time, all I knew was I needed him. I was physically sick while trying frantically to reach him. When I finally found him and paramedics were called, it was too late. He laid down to rest around 10am and never woke up. He died from a heart attack. I found him – I thought he was just resting – but I was far too late.
Most of the details of that day are as clear to me as if it happened yesterday, and as I approach the 2nd anniversary, I find myself reflecting his death, on how it has affected me, and on the five words Debbie spoke over me:
I just love your voice…
While I still grieve over his sudden death and the effects of the trauma of finding him, I am confident in this:
God loves me.
I desperately miss singing and harmonizing with my kids, it still hurts to talk, I struggle with shame over how I sound, and pain is a constant companion. However, I also recognize that I am still healing from the trauma of what transpired that day.
And, in this place of healing, I continue to experience endless comfort in God.
I can now sing the Shabbat prayer again most Fridays. When I spoke at my church on communion, I had no pain before, during, or after speaking which is HUGE. And, despite the shame I’ve felt, others do love my voice.
My perspective has started to shift and I wonder if that is what God was after all along.
I have to admit -I haven’t been speaking “I just love my voice” over myself. I have not had thoughts of life about my voice. I haven’t passed the Philippians 4:8 test over my voice – in fact, I’ve failed. The power of life and death is in the tongue – I know this but my heart was too wounded to let it penetrate. It took two people speaking it out loud for it to penetrate – the first person broke through my defenses, the second person hit my heart dead center.
2 Corinthians 13:1 says that by the mouth of two or three witnesses every word shall be established.
Two people have said it. So be it.
I surrender the shame to the cross – He never intended for me to carry it. I come as close as I can to Him eager to know Him in the fellowship of His sufferings. I will allow Him to comfort me and I will receive His comfort hoping in time I can and will be a comfort to others. That is His plan for us after all – for you and for me.
He comforts us so we can comfort others.
He gives to us so we can give away.
He pours in so we can pour out.
He loves us so we can love others – truly love them.
My “why” at work – the thing that drives me – is the same thing that drives me at home: legacy. I want to lead and live in such a way that I leave people better than I found them. I want to leave others feeling inspired and challenged – even when conversations and situations are hard. The trauma two years ago reinforced what I knew – life really is fleeting. My encounter with my kids and my team today may be my last one. Therefore, it is important to not leave things unsaid. It is important to tell and to show people how valuable they are – not the work they do – but as a human.
Today, I am grateful for the comfort I have and will continue to receive. My story isn’t over – He’s not done. I will keep believing, writing, and testifying. If the only people I ever impact are my children, it is enough.
May we experience His comfort in the seasons we walk in today so we can be a light in the darkness tomorrow.
~ Marci
2 Corinthians 1: 3 – 10
All praises belong to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. For he is the Father of tender mercy and the God of endless comfort. He always comes alongside us to comfort us in every suffering so that we can come alongside those who are in any painful trial. We can bring them this same comfort that God has poured out upon us. And just as we experience the abundance of Christ’s own sufferings, even more of God’s comfort will cascade upon us through our union with Christ. If troubles weigh us down, that just means that we will receive even more comfort to pass on to you for your deliverance! For the comfort pouring into us empowers us to bring comfort to you. And with this comfort upholding you, you can endure victoriously the same suffering that we experience. Now our hope for you is unshakable, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings you will also share in God’s comforting strength … All of the hardships we passed through crushed us beyond our ability to endure, and we were so completely overwhelmed that we were about to give up entirely. It felt like we had a death sentence written upon our hearts, and we still feel it to this day. It has taught us to lose all faith in ourselves and to place all of our trust in the God who raises the dead…And now we fasten our hopes on him …”
Links to Alathia’s Story: