The Light Returns: A Journey Back to Music, Healing, and Hope
By Tabatha McIntyre
Parenting is a part of a journey of discovery. We watch them explore the world, try new things, and hope they find something that makes them come alive. For years, my daughter tried various activities: dance, horseback riding, gymnastics. Nothing ever truly resonated with her. She would participate, but her heart just was not in it.
That all changed the day she picked up a ukulele..
It started simply—strumming chords and singing familiar songs, but something clicked. Music opened a door to her confidence. It was not long before she got involved in community theater, and I watched in awe as she transformed. Once somewhat reserved and insecure, she blossomed into a vibrant, flourishing performer.
Music and theater became her “thing.” Her confidence grew, her light shone brightly, and it felt like she had found a true calling.
There is a special kind of joy that comes from seeing your child thrive in something they are passionate about. For years, my daughter’s passion was music. My girl had something that cannot be taught. When she sang, you felt it. She was not just a performer, but music was a way of expressing herself, a reflection of her deep soul.
I have countless memories of her older brother playing the piano, while the two of us sang together. Each song I got to share with them filled my heart with so much joy.
But then life took a sharp turn.
When her father and I got divorced, that light dimmed.
At first, it was grief. The weight of our family’s changes became too much, and music, once her refuge, became painful to her. She did not want to sing or perform. She retreated into herself, and over time, her love for performing faded into the background.
As a mother, it was heartbreaking. I felt so much guilt. Not just because she was not singing anymore, but because when she sang, she shone. Her confidence, her light—it all came through in her voice.
As the years passed and she entered her teenage years, she avoided the spotlight even more. I tried not to push her. I knew she needed time to process her emotions and grow in her own way, but I made sure she knew how much I missed hearing her voice. I would tell her, gently, that she had a gift—one that could bring so much light to a world that often feels dark. I never wanted her to feel pressured, but I did not want her to forget how special her music was either.
Still, I kept hoping. I prayed that one day she would find her way back to music.
Just after New Years, she was presented with an opportunity to be part of our church’s youth band, and with the encouragement and partnership of her very musical brother, they agreed to do it together.
It was a quiet yes, but it was monumental.
The next Sunday afternoon, I heard them in the living room. In a moment I did not see coming, there we were, her brother at the piano, both of us standing beside him. Kylie started to sing. She was timid at first, stopping and being immediately critical of herself. I wish she could see herself as she truly is, remarkable. I was so proud of her. She was stepping out. When it looked like she might falter, I wanted to rush in and help, to sing the harmony like we used to, but I did not want to steal any of her spotlight, so I just encouraged her to keep going. Then, I listened and savored.
After a few lines, she looked at me and nodded in a way that told me she wanted me to sing with her. I did not hesitate. Our voices blended and the volume and comfort grew.
I took an intentional pause to appreciate the moment. I had not heard her sing like that in years. Her voice was as beautiful as ever, better really, and filled with light, life, and confidence.
The three of us sang together, and I could barely hold back my tears. It was such a powerful reminder that even when something feels lost, it is not necessarily gone forever.
Watching her sing again reminded me that our children go through seasons. They may drift away from things they once loved, but that does not mean those passions are gone for good. Sometimes they just need time. Time to grieve, time to grow, time to rediscover who they are.
I have learned that it is important to let them be who they need to be in each season of life, and to trust that, with encouragement and love, they will come back to their light.
For any parent going through a season where your child seems distant from the things they love: do not lose hope, keep the faith, keep praying, and never underestimate the power of gentle encouragement and unconditional love.
Because sometimes, all they need is time—and someone who believes in them—to find their way back to their song.
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