Finding My Voice

I believed firmly that the world didn't need my voice, another person saying things that you already know. I liked reading other people's thoughts and their books. I was fascinated by biographies and I loved to hear what people were passionate about. But my stories weren't worth telling. There was also that feeling that I would be vain to think that anyone would want to read my thoughts or value what I had to say. My voice didn't matter.

There was also the feeling that my stories were too precious. I have mentored, taught and worked with students for going on 20 years now. The one thing you know in working with middle and high schoolers, is that your role in their life is precious and crucial but it's their story to tell. So though there are many beautiful, meaningful and sometimes heart wrenching stories to tell about those individuals, they were not mine to tell.

Then there was the feeling that my stories were too hard to explain. You see my husband and I got married and two months later we accepted a teaching job in Venezuela. Six months after that we arrived in Venezuela, without a clue as to what we were doing. We then spent the next ten years in Caracas, Venezuela living and working at a small international Christian school where we made a home, learned a language, had babies and fell in love with a beautiful and complicated country and its people. You may or may not be aware that Venezuela was among the wealthiest economies in South America from the 1950s to 1980s. You also may or may not be aware that more than 7.7 million people have left Venezuela since 2015, according to a UNHCR report. If you want to understand a bit why so many have left, check out Caracas Chronicles article on the lost generation. We lived there from 2008-2018. We watched our beautiful country of Venezuela fall apart in those years. How can I ever explain to you enough the beauty and the trauma?

The most common question we got when we were living there, was why didn't we leave? The most common question I got after we moved away, was how did we stay for so long? I think I'll have to try to tell some of that story in little bits. All at once is just too much for me and for you. And again it is precious to me and I think when you share a story about something precious to you, it should be done with care.

So though I believed my voice didn't matter, that some stories are too precious and others are too hard to explain, I have decided, as a step of faith for me, to challenge the belief that my voice doesn't matter. I can offer what I have learned and am learning with the hope that it will bless you as well as to encourage you to share because your voice matters too.