On the Fourteenth Day: Fourteen Broken Silences

(Early music at Christmas, continued)

Our final  protégé spent the first few years of his life on the road in a car seat, traveling with Paul and I to his sisters' and brother's concerts, recitals and band competitions. Kyle was quieter outside the confines of our home and family than he was within. Ordering at restaurants, sharing how he felt in a doctor's office, responding to questions posed by friends often required a second voice for him to be heard. For instance, at Wendy's:

Cashier:                    (to Kyle) Can I help you?
Me:                           (after a long silence) Kyle, please tell the lady what you want.
Kyle:                        (to me) I did.
Me:                           (having read his lips) She didn't hear you.
Kyle:                        (something I can't hear)
Me:                           What did you say?
Kyle:                         (still can't hear him)
Me:                           (to the Wendy's lady who has fallen asleep waiting) He wants a hamburger.
Kyle:                         (shaking his head madly)
Me:                           (to Kyle) Chicken nuggets?
Kyle:                        (nodding)
Cashier:                    Ok. What would you like to drink?

And so on.

I wondered how he'd ever manage in school. I was slightly encouraged after he began preschool and told me one day that he had gotten in trouble and with a friend had to spend some time in the quiet chair. Still, his voice, very loud and opinionated at times at home, seemed to remain at home when he ventured out. His words were so rare among our friends that if he ever offered a word about anything he was pretty much congratulated for it.

So imagine Paul's and my shock one Sunday morning in Advent when our friend and director of the children's choir said to us, "Your son has a beautiful voice." For the reasons explained above, we assumed she was talking about Tim who had sung in her choir. We thanked her. Perceiving our assumption, she said, "I'm talking about Kyle!" Seeing our surprise, she informed us that he had auditioned to sing a solo on Christmas Eve. "We gave him the solo," she said.

Our shock gave way to some anxiety about what might happen on Christmas Eve given our experience at Wendy's and every other place where requests were made of him to speak. Would he sing out, we wondered? What if he sang like he spoke to the cashier at Wendy's? For sure, there would be no microphone in the world strong enough to read his thoughts and turn it into sound.

He did a great job, delighting us all with his clear enunciation and strong, true voice. For many reasons, it was a memorable event. But it was also enlightening. Like every human being must, Kyle was working to find his voice. Always more thoughtful than vocal, Kyle's key to expression has increasingly been music and is one of the most vital means by which we have come to know and appreciate his great soul.

Maybe we should have encouraged Kyle to sing his order at Wendy's.