Estrangement and the Stage: Healing One Song at a Time in Italy

My group of singer friends after our first show

There’s something about standing on a stage in a foreign land, singing your heart out, while your own heart still quietly aches.

Right now, I’m in Italy—rehearsing and preparing to sing in a series of performances just outside of Milan. The scenery is breathtaking, the music is soul-stirring, and the company of dear singer friends brings joy. But even here, in the most beautiful place, there’s a piece of my heart that’s missing.

Estrangement doesn’t take a vacation.

It sneaks into quiet moments and unspoken thoughts. While the world around me feels rich with beauty and purpose, I still carry the silent ache of someone missing from my life. I don’t know what she’s doing—only what I hear through silence and secondhand stories. That’s what estrangement does—it leaves you parenting through prayer and hope instead of phone calls and hugs.

But I’ve also been gifted with something incredibly healing during this time—conversation.The kind that goes deep. The kind that brings light into hard places. I’m surrounded by wonderful people here, but one dear, dear friend in particular—a fellow singer, author, and speaker—has spoken words into my life with such wisdom and compassion, they went straight into my heart.

This past week, she looked at me and gently said, “Let her go… she will come back.”Her caring and love was a salve to my heart and mind.It didn’t erase the ache, but it gave me a moment of peace. A reminder to loosen my grip and trust God with the timeline and the outcome.

I’ve also found a sister in another dear friend here—a lovely, talented, and deeply caring soul who lives in Lisbon, Portugal with her husband. Every day, we walk to a little café together for cappuccino and conversation. It’s become one of the sweetest rhythms of my time here. This café, filled with goodies and warmth, has been a sanctuary for the soul. Our group is close, open, and genuinely supportive of each other. It’s a breath of fresh air in every sense—even as the work we’re doing is incredibly hard.

In the midst of this demanding schedule, my voice teacher is helping me reconnect with my breath—guiding me to center it low in my body. It’s such a simple thing, and yet it feels like discovering a deeper part of myself again. At the same time, my wise friend reminded me that our bodies change over time—and so does our singing. That truth settled deep in my spirit.

Listening to all my friends here being coached and working so hard is a powerful reflection of where I once was… and where I am now. What I did in my 20s is not what I do now. And that’s okay. There’s a whole group of young singers here, eager to grow and learn—each of them so very talented. I see myself, years ago, in their voices and their eyes. And I gently remind myself that while my technique has matured, my spirit and soul can still stay young.

Through the wisdom and care of my friend, I’ve found a path to love the woman I am right now. And that, too, is healing.

I carry the silent ache of estrangement in my heart, but I’m finding the weight getting lighter.I’ve laughed—really laughed. I’ve listened deeply. I’ve encouraged others and been encouraged in return. The love and kindness flowing through this community has begun to lift something inside me. I’m not sure if I’m becoming my best self… or simply finding my path more and more. Maybe both.

Here’s what I’m learning: healing sometimes happens in unexpected places.And right now, for me, it's happening one song at a time.

Every song I sing, every phrase I shape with breath and intention, is a prayer. A release. A reminder that I still have purpose, even in the pain. God is using this time in Italy not only to refine my voice—but to restore my soul.

Music has always been my language. Long before I had the words for grief, I had melodies for it. And as I pour my heart into the music here, I’m reminded that God sees the parts of me I try to hide. He knows the cracks. And somehow, He’s turning them into something beautiful.

Estrangement often makes us feel powerless. But standing on a stage, I’m reminded:I’m not powerless—I have a voice.And healing isn’t always loud—it can be found in the quiet work of doing what you love, trusting God in the process.

I don’t know how this chapter will end. I don't know if or when restoration will come. But I do know this: I’m showing up. I’m singing. And I’m letting God do the rest.

To those of you walking through estrangement—especially those trying to carry that pain while still showing up in your gifts and callings—you’re not alone. There’s healing in the doing. There’s peace in the trusting. And there’s purpose in the pain.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s a song waiting to be sung by you, too.

💛 Let’s Connect:If this resonated with your heart, I’d love to hear from you.➡️ Comment below, share your story, or let us pray for you. And don’t forget to follow me on Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook for more faith, healing, and hope through estrangement.

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