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It was the first voice that I ever heard. Faint in the fact of a whisper, perhaps even a murmur. It was a voice that carried with it the different octaves of love, warmth, trust and days of never-ending fairy tales. When I came from the darkness into the light, I was met with the harsh reality of an environment not yet gazed upon by my new eyes. A world of bright lights, undefinable sounds, scents that were new to me. Then, with the touch of a gentle hand, I was at ease for I heard a clearer more sharper image of this recognizable murmur that had soothed me so many times. With this voice of trust also came a touch that was to take my heart forever. I was new at this, I had never held a hand before, never kissed a cheek nor smiled for this voice.
The voice, in time, began to take on yet another new characteristic. One that slips from my memory of the first time seeing, but it had to have had a glow unlike any I had ever seen or have yet to see. I know this because it is one that even today, at times, will be the first to enter my mind in times of hurt, loss of direction and the coldness of being in the dark abyss that life has a tendency to place us in.
In time, I was to lean of heart and soul from this voice. As a child I would slay many dragons, rescue beautiful fair maidens, don countless plates of shiny armor, that for some unknown reason have rusted away with the rain of yesterday. This voice initiated the first lessons of life. It asked so many times, Why did you do that, You should have known better than that or If you say thank you and no mam, you will always be rewarded.
Today, as an adult, I am still amazed at the God-given healing power the lips of that voice possessed. They seemed to always have just the right mixture of love and secret recipe to stop the sting of life's little pains such as skinned knees or wooden splinters. I find it most comforting today that those same lips can offer much of the same healing power although the pains of today, at times, have grown immune to the medication of those lips , needed cures that only your own heart can conquer or demanded for today.
I have heard that the ones possessing this voice have a special room in their heart that is occupied by feathers. Strange you might ask. Not really. For you see these feathers are all but remnants now of the many broken wings we endured as innocent children. A child being God's gift you can say. Why does the one possessing the special room not renovate this space and make room for other more useful things. I will tell you. As adults now, we are still viewed upon as God's gift to this voice. When the darkness of pain and hurt falls upon our lives, the voice looks deep within this special room and removes a saved feather and mends our broken wing. The same care is taken to administer the healing processes as when a Band-Aid was placed upon the skinned knee or when the kiss was given for the fall on the hard ground. The only difference today, as adults, the tears taste not of salt but stress, mistrust, and now are cooled by the bitter winds of distant unforeseen days.
Is it not odd that when life conjures the gale force winds of destruction that we still find refuge under the white wings of this voice. Wings that somehow never seem to be lacking a feather. Perhaps the voice's wings have the ability to sprout new ones. Maybe this was another God-given gift to the voice to counteract the times that we, as children, have broken the voice's wings. I wonder at times when the voices wing had a feather plucked from it, why did it disappear into the breeze seldom captured, yet the voice guards ours with its very life. My conclusion. This voice you see is unlike any other you will ever hear... it is the voice of a Mother.
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