The Voice of Assurance

His voice was the epitome of comfort. You could place him in the middle of a room full of angry, shouting people, start him talking in that smooth, relaxing voice, and within moments, the din would fade and disappear–all ears on that beautiful voice. It did not matter what he was saying–only that he was talking. The times he had provided reassurance and calm to people in desperate need of those things could not be counted. He spoke. And people heard that voice and believed that it was going to be alright. His voice was a window to the very soul.

Particularly sophisticated folks might call the voice “announcery.” Funny, though. They needed it just as badly as the rest of us.

Personally, I always thought that his voice was a reflection of his own soul—afraid like most of us, but calm and reassuring—-always.

Just before he died, I saw him for the first time in years. Saddened by personal losses and determined to return just once more to his beloved mountains, he was still—-that voice.

These days, more than ever, I need that voice to tell me that everything is O.K. That I need not despair. We all need it. And, although the voice has been silenced, it will never be taken away.