I can remember this little girl singing her heart out to her Jesus. She danced, and laughed, and spoke her mind. She was fearless. It never occurred to her to be nervous, to be shy, to care what people thought. Somewhere along the way, she lost her voice.
Maybe it was when she lived in England. Bullies ruled her walk home from school. Willow branches stripped bare stung her legs as voices taunted. And she didn’t understand the hate.
Could it have been the American kids who instead of receiving her English accent, ridiculed and made fun. Isolation wrapped around with arms of steel.
Or maybe it was when arms opened wide to a newly adopted sister who didn’t know love. Insults rained down around her. Words cutting deeper than the willow branches ever had. What is this cruelty?
Once, on a school bus ride home, words from the bus driver choked off her laughter. Humiliation flooded.
A father’s words shredded dignity. Too often.
Her voice remained silent while words screamed to be heard. Is it any wonder she ended up raped and abused? Evil dominated.
These lies across the years wedged deep in her heart. Layer upon layer. Am I worth loving? Can I be me? Or should I hide me deep inside?
Oh, Jesus, can I sing for you? Can I dance for you? Can I laugh with you? Will I be bold enough to speak the words you want me to speak? Will I ever get my voice back?
I seem so self assured, yet, I am this little girl crying. This little girl lost. Release me from these lies I have believed, Lord. Here my heart cry, and let me soar. These gifts you have given, help me to be fearless once again, and use them for your glory. I don’t need a stage, I just need to be…heard by you. By my family. By those you want to hear.
Can I sing for you, Jesus? Can that voice be found? I sing so quietly, so softly that no one can hear. Can I find that strong, bold, confident voice again? Can I be who you created me to be once more?
I want to sing for you, Jesus.