"You're so loud."
This infamous phrase was repeated to me over and over again as I grew up. When my laugh burst through the seams, when my shout bubbled over into a full-blown scream, and when my excitement took hold of my reason, I was called to silence. My voice is one that shatters silence, many times without my knowledge.
When these little words, "you're so loud," were repeated to me, my shout retreated to a whimper. My hearty roar quickly fell into nervous laughter, and my eyes turned downward, as goosebumps fire worked across my flesh. I was embarrassed by my own language, by my own joy.
It hurt. It hurt to be told that something that came so naturally to me, boldness and loudness, was bad. To be told that to be quiet was to be good, and to be likeable.
What should be understood, however, is that context is something that carries us? There is a time to shout, and a time to whisper. A time for joy, and a time for sorrow. Just as Ecclesiastes 3 states, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven."
So, where did I find myself? How was I able to use these shouts and these cheers for good?
I found something in song, and I found something in owning my voice to attract others to Him.
One of my most treasured possessions, one of my most favored gifts, is my little ukulele. When I first started out, I was clumsy and slow. My fingers failed to hold down the strings, and my hand felt rhythm-less and limp. It took great effort and long nights to grow quicker, more sure and more able. But I believe one dream set my in heart kept me afloat. For a while now, I have had this small aspiration. I want to move people, I want to impact them; I want to help change their lives. I feel so incredibly called to music, it's something I cannot entirely grasp on my own.
From this, I soon began covering songs in coffee shops. While it may not seem like much, there is something very precious about being able to speak into the lives of everyday people. I am able to tell stories, move these people through songs that have moved me. I am able to connect with them. I believe that music is something so universal, yet so personal. It can mean so very many things to so very many people.
And through theater, I furthered these stories. I could use my wondering whispers to portray the curious heart of Rebecca Gibbs from "Our Town." And I could use my passionate cry to capture Yente's devout love for tradition in "Fiddler on the Roof." I could be anyone I wanted on the stage. I had no fear of hiding my voice from the crowds, as my shouts and my words created characters for all to wonder upon.
Do not be afraid to speak. Do not be afraid by the harsh words or thoughts of those around you. No matter the depth of your sound, become something to someone. Connect with them, draw them close with your words. Create worlds, touch lives, because life is fleeting. It is all too short not to make an impact with one of the most powerful tools of our age.
But always know, we are mere vessels. The words we string together and the phrases we hold so dear are nothing without the truth behind them. Use these words and these gifting’s that you have been given for good. Every talent you have, every masterpiece you create, is but a small piece of the Father's great heart. These words, these beautiful thoughts and truths we see are not our own. How selfish of us to fear man's reproach, to dull our shouts to a mere whisper. Speak loudly, boldly, proclaiming and showing the world every beauty we have been given.
