After several mini strokes, my father was pretty much mute. Weeks would go by with hardly a word unless he was really(!) prodded. After a long stint in the hospital and at home, he was finally fit enough to be taken to church. He could barely walk, and really struggled to get to his feet from sitting down, but he followed Mum's directions and did his best. We knew he wanted to attend church by his non-verbal communication through head and eye motions, and finger pointing.

To everyone's surprise, when the first hymn was started, he opened his mouth and sang, remembering words and harmonies as he had always done, though with less power than he had enjoyed previously. When questioned about it, he responded with his usual mute stare. Speaking wasn't possible, but singing was. This condition lasted for the last couple of years of his life, though it did diminish even more.

All this was very emotional for the family, and we suppose for Dad. He had spent his whole life in service to the church and here he was able to make noise in the place where he had preached...but virtually nowhere else.

The brain is a weird and wondeful thing. I'm convinced music helps keep us alive.

Peace, Mooh.