Andy and I seem to have picked up a bug on our flights home. (My office staff has helpfully said I have “kennel cough,” from the flying kennels in the sky.) This morning, my throat was sore and my voice was gone.
Tuesday is usually my day for meetings, and being voiceless gave me a different perspective on the day. During a morning conference call, I listened as the conversation swirled around me. A member of my staff did an excellent job running the weekly staff meetings, while I added only a few whispered comments. By drinking lots of hot tea and using a restaurant-soft voice, I was able to converse across a table at lunch with a colleague. That conversation was enjoyable but perhaps a mistake, as my voice has skittered away once more. And so I am sitting here nursing my throat and consigned once again to listening more than speaking.
The racking coughs are annoying, as is having to wave wildly to catch someone’s attention. I can’t ask the dog if he wants to go out or ask a child to bring me a glass of water. (Nor can I interrupt an ongoing conversation, which is probably the most annoying thing of all.) There is a gathering tonight that I really wanted to attend, but I realize that I shouldn’t expose some of my favorite people to whatever gluck I have. Therefore, I’ll sit at home tonight, gesticulating wildly to the dog, the children, the husband, and probably even the television by the time the night is over.
On the plus side, I’ll get to practice the art of listening. My son has made me fresh vegetable soup, a blessed gift from him before he moves to Seattle next week. I will have an unexpected night at home, which is always a luxury. There are worse things than being a voiceless preacher . . . for a little while.
