Can You Hear Me?

With a plastered-on smile, I faced a rowdy class of Chinese preschoolers and reached down to the tips of my toes to muster up my maximum volume: “If you’re happy and you know it…”

I clapped my hands. I stomped my feet. And I turned myself around. “That’s what it’s all about, hey?”

But those precious little ones weren’t paying any attention to me. In spite of the lyrics and how hard I was trying, I was not happy. And they didn’t know it.

My voice was drowned out by the noise in the room.

Just how loud do I need to raise my voice in order to be heard? Since early childhood, when I was diagnosed with nodules on my vocal cords, using my voice has been a struggle. Quiet has been plastered across my chest like an unwanted label, with varying degrees of shame.

“You need to speak up,”  has been the constant refrain directed at my softspokenness.

“I don’t have a very loud voice,” I routinely apologize. “Can you hear me?”

I surprised myself, in my spiritual direction program last year, by volunteering to share my story first. Worrying about how the words I wished I didn’t have to say might land, I longed to put my intro behind me. Heart pounding, I held my breath as I waited for feedback from the eight boxes on my Zoom screen.

One gentle comment nestled deep within my pain-filled heart: “You are learning to use your voice, and I want to hear more of what you have to say. What you shared also makes me want to pay more attention to my wife’s words.”

Right then, hope shattered my doubt. Maybe the broken marriage part of my story could actually be redemptive, and not an automatic disqualifier from ministry.

I was living what felt like my worst nightmare. When I shakingly informed my husband of 28 years that we needed a time of separation because I was afraid of him, he refused to listen. His anger and instability had been escalating in recent months so that I feared for my sons’ and my safety, but he remained convinced that God’s plan was for us to work out our marriage difficulties while under the same roof.

My voice was overpowered by my husband’s sense of authority in our home.

Just how loud do I need to raise my voice in order for him to hear me? Inside, I was screaming, and desperately pleading for God to make a way where I could see no way.

Finally, through divine intervention, he agreed to pack his bag and move out. I was wrecked, shaken to the core, and filled with a deep-seated fear that did not leave with my husband. I was grieving, angry and terribly sad that our two adopted sons had more added trauma and abandonment to their lives. Never in a million years would these have been the circumstances I would have chosen for them, for our adult children, or for myself.

Life moving forward would never be the same for our family again.

My teenagers and I continued to pencil in events and flip over hard-fought months on our calendar as we focused on healing and creating a healthier new normal. Through intensive counseling and bodywork, I found release from years-long tension I had been carrying, and my migraines began to disappear. I was getting my life back.

While there were hopes for reconciliation, the time of separation did not result in my husband’s cooperation toward rebuilding trust. I found myself at a difficult crossroads.

Showing up for me in deep and personal ways that I had not before experienced, God gave me both peace and resolve about moving in the direction of divorce.

He provided some much-needed support and encouragement from my family and a small group of friends. I also found myself on the receiving end of unexpected opposition from well-meaning people who believed that our broken story could or should be tied up with a beautiful answered-prayer bow.

“Don’t you know God hates divorce? Scripture makes it clear that you shouldn’t give up on restoring your marriage. Because he said he’s changed, now it’s your responsibility to give him a second chance.“

Wouldn’t you know it–my life-long Quiet label has had a sister named Responsible. And to complete the trio, People-pleaser has consistently joined them, like three legs on a stool. And on that sturdy stool I have sat, through all of my married life, including 20 years of overseas ministry, with a plastered-on smile as a good Christian wife who defers to her husband, doesn’t make waves, and keeps dark secrets behind closed doors.

But God has been redeeming and redefining those stool legs for me, allowing my true self to emerge. My Quiet label, no longer shameful, has joined forces with Strength. Responsible, yes, but for myself and not for anyone else’s feelings or actions. People-pleaser no longer, I am becoming a God-honorer by making choices that are true to who He has made me to be.

These days, you won’t find me trying to convince anyone through song and dance that I’m something I’m not. With quiet, newfound strength I am echoing Mary’s song, trusting in His faithfulness to complete His healing in and through me, as He uses my voice for His glory.

My soul lifts up the Lord! My spirit celebrates God, my Liberator!  From generation to generation, God’s lovingkindness endures for those who revere Him. Luke 1:46-47, 50, The Voice

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Formed by her certification in soul care and spiritual direction, Jodie Pine loves safe and sacred spaces where whispered stories can be heard and held. She believes deeply that God can write the most beautiful of redemption stories with the pens of those who believe they can no longer write. You can connect with her on Instagram.