A Christmas Gift

I'm singing O Holy Night for Christmas Eve service.

In the past, this wouldn't be an unusual thing. I'm a classically trained soprano who debuted with the Denver Symphony and then went on to sing with a number of regional opera companies before I left the stage to raise a family. Even then, I kept active in church and community groups, singing the role of the mother in Amahl and the Night Visitors several times and soloing for productions of The Messiah. My Christmases have always been filled with music.

Until I was diagnosed with NSIP.

For a while as we struggled to find the right combination of drugs to keep the progression of this illness at bay, I suffered a cough so virulent and persistent, my vocal chords were constantly inflamed. I couldn't match pitch, let alone produce a remotely pleasing tone.

It was like losing a limb. Singing is so much of who I am, it was like part of my soul had been stripped away. I couldn't allow myself to weep over it for fear I'd never stop. Like many things in life when you have a chronic health issue, I finally concluded it was something I'd have to learn to live with.

Or in this case, without.

But I've been given a reprieve--a gift of grace. Since moving to the Midwest, the cough is almost gone. My lung function is stable or slightly improved. And I've been singing again.

Not at my previous level of ability, goodness knows, but well enough so that I feel that joyous connection between my breath and my body and my spirit. And I'm so very grateful.

So even though some folks who listen to me sing tonight will think the music is my gift to the Savior, it's not.

It's His gift to me.