More About Music: The Voice

Please note:  I wrote this post long before hearing there is a TV program by the name "The Voice."  I did not intend to refer to that program in this post.


I hate it when people take an ordinary occurrence and spiritualize it with some deeper meaning.  I'm about to do just that.  I embarrass myself.  Don't worry, though.  It's short and won't hurt much.

My husband has a Voice.  When he sings, you know he's singing.  Others sometimes stop singing just to listen to his Voice.  When he leads worship, he truly needs no microphone - his Voice is very present.  His Voice is built for solos.

I have a very plain voice.  Pleasant, but certainly not outstanding.  When I sing, I naturally blend with everyone around me.  If someone happens to hear me (I tend to harmonize), they inevitably think it was someone else.  My voice is built for choir.

Tween and I were driving and he asked me about his voice.  He can carry a tune, and he shows some promise as far as impromptu musicals are concerned, but he's still got a little boy voice.  Tween, however, was under the distinct impression that his was a Voice Like Unto His Father's.

I'm a "burst their bubble" kind of mom.  I don't believe in pumping up my kids about talents they don't have.  Being that this was tween, though, I had to do a slow deflate rather than a rapid pin thrust.  So we talked about the relative merits and drawbacks of solo vs. choir voices.  Here is what we came up with:

Solo:  Can sing a solo.  Can't sing in an ensemble, as the Voice stands out too much.  Can be intimidating to sing with.

Choir:  Can't sing a solo except in unusual circumstances.  Duets, trios, quartets, choirs - all good.  Great background vocalist.  Welcome at sing-alongs.  Fun to sing with.

At this point I waxed spiritual.  Solo voices are wonderful to listen to, but choir voices reflect more of the body of Christ.  Rather than standing out, we are usually called to augment, or blend, or refine a cooperative effort.  The beauty is found in the blend.

Tween rubbed his chin for a moment, then agreed with me that a choir voice is more flexible, and more like the body of Christ.

Then, of course, he wanted reassurance that he wasn't completely out of the running for a Voice.  After all, one day a man's voice would be his.  Perhaps, someday, he, too, will have a Voice!

He's right, of course.  I can't help but wonder, though, if he inherited a pinch of my reckless optimism.

Have you ever seen a sentence with so many commas as the one three sentences ago?

Random Acts of Concert

I love all of my children, but my teen and toddler are definitely at more lovable stages than my tween.  Tweens are not as cuddly and charming as very small children, nor are they as companionable as teens.  Parenting a tween is very hard work for me (...she said, having never parented a defiant, rebellious child to adulthood).  Tweens are physically, socially, and emotionally awkward, and they test all fronts at all times.

It is rare to find a point of agreement between my tween and I.  He is over-the-top goofy except when he's brownnosing me or being sulky and sullen.  Sometimes it seems that everything he does grates on my last nerve.  Luckily, I seem to have lots of last nerves!

Once in a while, though, something strange occurs - and I think you will agree with my definition of strange here.  One of us will begin to invent a jingle about some mundane happening.  A jazzy tune will accompany a lyric about losing yet another pencil, for example.  The pencil song develops a bit, and then the other of us jumps in.  First we do a little echo.  Then we alternate lines or verses.  Finally we throw a little harmony, a little embellishment in the mix.

Sometimes a lost pencil becomes a full-fledged musical, complete with choreography and the Big Ending.

We laugh, pat each other on the back, hum another bar or two.  Then it's back to struggle and strain.

Sometimes it scares me that this child, who lives to drive me insane, is so like me.  Though he's in the driver's seat on this journey, he sure can make the trip fun!

And now you know my tween is a boy.  So goes the anonymity.