By Dr. James L. Snyder
It has been a quiet week at the parsonage, far quieter than usual. I cannot remember a time when it was quieter. If silence is golden, the week glowed with a yellow brilliance.
When the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage awoke from her beauty sleep on Monday morning, she discovered sometime during the night she lost her voice. It was a strange sensation that bears repeating - often.
At first, I thought I lost my hearing. I am not accustomed to starting the day with such silence. I could see my Beloved’s lips moving, but nothing reached my ears.
I must confess that there have been times when I feigned not hearing her, but this time I really could not hear a word she said.
With nothing in my ears - or between them, for that matter - I could not explain this sudden silence of my Little Lamb.
Have you ever tried looking for something you hoped you would not find?
Being the considerate soul that I am, I submissively went through the motions of looking for the lost voice. (I did have my fingers crossed.)
My problem was: where do you begin looking for a lost voice? In my lifetime, I have looked for many lost items. My car keys, my wallet (especially when the check at the restaurant is due) and my mind, which I have yet to find.
However, where does a voice go when it turns up missing?
I spent a few moments meditating in the garage, but did not find or hear the voice of my Beloved.
Now, where do voices go when they are lost? Is there such a thing as a Missing Voice Bureau? In addition, how long does a voice have to be missing before you can report it to the MVP?
When you do make out a report, how long does it sit on someone’s desk before there is a congressional inquiry into the matter?
The crisis came to a head - actually, it was my head - on Thursday morning. At the breakfast table, I could tell my wife was a little irritated at something, or someone.
Glaring across her cereal bowl, I could read her lips, and believe me; she was not whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
I just did not know what to do. Honestly, I had looked everywhere for her voice and never did find it.
By Thursday evening, the novelty of the silence began to get old.
It is rather difficult to effectively communicate when one has lost her voice. Unbelievably, I was beginning to miss hearing that voice, but I did not know what to do about it.
As mysteriously as it left, by Friday morning the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage found her voice. Within three hours, she more than made up for the several days of not speaking.
Actually, I was glad to hear her voice once again.
I thought of a scripture that made a little more sense to me. Jesus once said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand” (John 10:27-28).
Nothing is more wonderful than hearing the voice of the one you love.