I feel so very grateful to have the voice God gave me. It takes

In the tender and reverent words of Judy Collins, we hear the voice of gratitude and humility: “I feel so very grateful to have the voice God gave me. It takes a lot of rest and training to sing, and I was lucky that I found a great teacher when I first moved to New York.” This is not merely a reflection on a career; it is a meditation on the nature of gifts, the responsibility of nurturing them, and the blessings of guidance. Her words stand as both confession and counsel, revealing how divine endowment must be met with human discipline, and how no talent flourishes without mentorship.

To say she is grateful for her voice is to acknowledge that some things are not earned but given. The gift of a voice is like a seed planted by heaven, unique in each person. But a seed without care withers, and so she reminds us that rest and training are essential. The lesson is clear: what God gives, man must cultivate. A gift becomes greatness only when discipline, patience, and devotion are poured into it. Without such care, even the most beautiful instrument will falter and fade.

Her story turns upon the moment of finding a great teacher in New York. Here lies another eternal truth: that no gift matures in isolation. The role of the teacher is sacred, for they guide the raw talent toward its highest form. Collins does not claim her success alone, but honors the one who shaped her, teaching her to harness her voice with wisdom and craft. It is the humility of the truly great to give thanks not only for what was given, but for those who helped bring it to light.

History offers us many examples of such partnership between gift and guidance. Consider Beethoven, who, though born with extraordinary musical gifts, was refined by his teachers Christian Gottlob Neefe and later Joseph Haydn, who taught him composition and discipline. Or reflect on Maria Callas, the legendary soprano, whose natural voice was trained and transformed under Elvira de Hidalgo, making her one of the greatest singers of the twentieth century. In both, as in Collins, the story of greatness is not only talent but teaching, not only gift but gratitude.

The meaning of Collins’ words extends beyond music. Each of us has been given gifts—of mind, of body, of heart. Some may be obvious, others hidden, but all require cultivation. Too often, people envy the talents of others without realizing that the beauty lies not only in the gift itself but in the endless work, the sacrifice, the rest and training, that shape it. True gratitude is not passive thankfulness, but active stewardship—honoring the gift by laboring to perfect it.

The lesson we take is threefold. First, cherish the gifts you have been given, no matter how small they seem, for they are divine fingerprints upon your soul. Second, be disciplined—train, rest, and persevere, for without effort, even the greatest gift is wasted. Third, seek mentors and teachers, for their wisdom is the key to unlocking your potential. Just as Judy Collins honored her teacher, so must we remember that we rise not alone, but with the guidance of those who came before.

In practice, this means living attentively. If your gift is art, then study art with patience. If it is kindness, then practice it daily until it becomes your nature. If it is leadership, then learn from those who have led before you. And above all, give thanks—not only with words, but with the labor of your hands and the devotion of your heart. For gratitude without action is shallow, but gratitude with discipline becomes a hymn to God and to life itself.

Thus Judy Collins’ words resound like a gentle but firm teaching: “I feel so very grateful to have the voice God gave me… I found a great teacher when I first moved to New York.” Let us hear them not only as her story, but as a call to our own. We are each entrusted with something sacred—may we nurture it, refine it, and share it with the world, in gratitude to both the divine giver and the human guides who help us find our song.