A Gracious Gift!

I was exhausted. I fell into bed. And, suddenly, POP! 

POP? What was that? 

I felt it just below my ear, in the back of my throat --the right side of my throat, to be exact. Over ten years ago, I was diagnosed with Grave's Disease. The recommendation was a full thyroidectomy which, precise cause undetermined, left my vocal cords paralyzed on the right side, meaning now there was a gravelly quality to my speaking voice and an almost Peter Brady "Time to Change" condition when singing. Fast forward to just a couple of nights ago, to the POP!, and my voice is almost fully restored! Praise God! But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

When the surgery rendered me speechless --and it literally did, for several weeks --I was fine with that. I was simply happy to be alive and grateful the symptoms of Grave's were gone. As my voice slowly moved toward the crackly, frail-sounding voice to which I've become accustomed, I even agreed to sing on a few occasions. One of them being a couple weeks ago when our worship leader was very ill. Could you just lead the church in a few worship songs? our pastor asked. Why not? I'm not performing. It's not about me. I'm leading others to worship our Redeemer, I thought. For the next couple of weeks, even when the real worship leader returned, I sang with her. I even offered a testimony: 

When my voice was "perfect," I suffered from terrible stage fright. I loved to sing, I loved to worship, but I hated doing it in front of others. Today, my voice is broken and shaky, not at all what I would label "audience-worthy," but I'm not here to entertain. I'm here to worship and lead others in worship. It's about our King, and I am excited to do it. No stage fright!

Weeks later, the POP! I knew I was bushed, but I hadn't fallen asleep. Or had I? Was it a dream? For the first time in ten years, I felt back pressure when I inhaled (After surgery, inhaling always felt as though I was breathing through a straw with a pinhole in it). I rushed downstairs to quietly test it out. I spoke softly into the silence; I hummed a little; I even tried singing just a bit. My voice was back! But why? I mean, praise God, but why?! 

Just a few weeks before, I'd come across the audio of a preacher, Duane Miller, who seemed to have a similar condition to mine. Right there, in the middle of a teaching on Psalm 103, his voice began to change. It was strong and smooth. The breathiness, the gravel was gone. He was healed as he spoke a message about God's ability to heal! Instead of pain, everyone present could hear the gratitude and wonder in his voice; they all bore witness to God's abundant grace. And as I --post-POP! --listened to that audio again, I knew I had experienced the same. Tears. Lots and lots of happy tears. Tears that just seem to flow unchecked when you realize how undeserving you are and how good God is. 

I don't know why He has healed me. I thought things were moving along rather nicely. I was content. But He has a purpose, and I'm along for the ride --starting with giving Him all the glory and sharing with anyone who will listen, the gift of His grace!