A New Christmas Year

Most people wait until New Year's Day to make 
their New Year's Resolutions. They consider January 1st
to be the beginning of the new year. But, over the past 
few years, I have come to feel that Christmas Day is actually 
a better beginning for the new year.

Around Christmas, I make apologies to those I've offended, 
I forgive those who need forgiving (I don't point this out to the
person, I do it consciously for myself), and I ask forgiveness
from those I hurt. In doing this, I hope to take care of, and 
leave behind, old burdens, hurts, and offenses before Christmas, 
so that I, and the ones I had offended, can wake up Christmas 
morning with a clear conscious and a full heart.  

It isn't New Year's Day alone that feels like a brand new fresh start, 
but actually Christmas Day. This day we celebrate because a child
came down from Heaven, so that, as a man, he could serve his sole 
purpose of dying on a cross for our salvation. This seems, in my opinion,
a far better reason to celebrate a new year rather then just because 
it's time to start another calender.

I don't really have too many New Year's resolutions. I just want to 
be a better person then last year, love my family more, lose my 
temper less, don't take my family for granted, and to help another 
in need when we see it. I'd also like to be less stubborn, and to be 
able to keep my heart open more to God's calling. That pretty much 
sums it up. Sure, I could afford to lose a few pounds (Ok, I really 
need to lose quite a few pounds), but I don't think that is the most 
important thing right now. I think that having a relationship with 
Christ and growing closer to becoming the human being that God 
created me to be, are most important.

Sure, I'm looking forward to January first; it is a brand new year.
Just like a brand new gift, with each day individually wrapped.
But, Christmas is our true gift. It offers real hope. A clean slate.
A new beginning. Another chance. And, for this I am very grateful.
Because if it weren't for this, I'd be utterly lost.

I hope you all have a beautiful Christmas, and a New Year
overflowing with new blessings.   


  

Being a diamond inside a square

I was driving home today.
I have taken the same route over a hundred times.
I was in between towns when I noticed the fields on
both sides of the road. The fields were harvested 
months ago. There are only sticks left over from 
the corn harvest poking up out of the black dirt. 
Sometimes, I'll catch a beautiful view of the colors
of a sunset during my drive. But, today, I only 
noticed the fields. 

Today, I saw a patchwork of squares. Uniform. 
Their colors were brown, black, and some yellow. 
The dirt is dry. It looked barren. And, it seemed 
to match the spirit and attitude of this place 
where I live.

This place seems spiritually desolate and dry. Dead. 
New people and new growth are discouraged here. 
And, it is uniformed. Just how they want it. 
And just as the fields all look the same, so are 
the people. Conformity. They do not want 
creativity here. They do not want new life 
breathed into this place. This place is dying.
And people come here to die. 

We were judged before they even met us. 
Did we look different? No. 
Did we talk different? No. 
Did we act different? No. 
But, we were. We are different. We are different
because we don't have family roots here that span 
at least three generations. That is why they 
used any judgement to ignore us. Even if it was the 
smallest reason they could find.

And, because this place lacks beauty, I realized,
it is also the reason why I lack creativity and 
inspiration. My creativity has been squelched. And my 
spirituality drained.  

I have searched high and low for God in this place. 
But, I don't often find him outside of my four walls.
I searched for Him in churches of a couple 
different denominations. But, I did not really 
see Him anywhere. People are polite. In a cold, 
impersonal kind of way. But, they do not 
act Christ-like. Not even in church. They exercise 
their right not to get close to us even in a holy place.  

We are diamonds trying to fit into a square. 
I tried. I wanted to fit into the square. 
I wanted this place to work for us. Call me
naive, but I thought that it would be like Mayberry.
But, instead, it turned out to be more like the 
town of Bomont in the hit 80's movie, Footloose. 

So, our house has been up for sale for half the year.
And, I'm ready to go. I want to move someplace that 
has a lot of color. A place where everyone doesn't 
look and think alike. I want to go to a place that 
has beautiful things to see. Both natural and man-made. 
I want to go where I can express my desire to help 
others, and actually be able to help someone. I want 
to go where all shapes are welcome, and where 
creativity can flourish. Where kindness takes 
precedence over conformity.

I do not think that the people here are wrong.
They belong here. This is where they fit.
This is where their families have fit for over three 
generations. We have only been here for seven years, 
and I don't have the kind of time needed to earn 
their acceptance. I can't wait three generations 
before I finally make a friend.

So, for us, it means that it is time to go. It is time 
to find a new place to call home. A place that will 
inspire, refresh and replenish. A place that will 
breathe new hope and life into our souls. A place 
where we can search, find, and see God once again.
We need the beginning of a new journey.  

Finally Sailing

My last post was about walking away from all the things that were rightfully mine, 
but that I highly doubt that I'll ever see again. I handed that burden over to God. 
And, He gave me freedom and peace right away. 

But, a few days have passed since then, and I already see more blessings. 
When I first began this blog, I wrote a piece called Flip Flops in Heaven.
And, I just ordered myself a flip flop pendant necklace. 
I bought it because it is a way to keep my mom and God close to my heart. 
Plus, I figure if I can't have what is rightfully mine, then I'll create things 
that remind me of my mom. Things that can never be taken away 
by the widower.

Now, if I could only get over this last hurdle.
For two years, I've been aching to move. 
I actually don't like my house anymore. 
It depresses me.

What was a blessing at first, has now become a painful burden.
The blessing was the last time I ever saw my mom alive in 
my own home. The last memory I have of her was when she was 
sitting on my couch, holding my children close to her so that my husband could
take a picture of all of them together. This was a blessing because I could 
relive the memory as often as I needed in order to grieve and heal. 

But, now it it just feels like a curse. 
I am stuck because the grief is largely over, and I cannot move on with
this new chapter in my life. I'm still in the same house. I can't bring myself 
to paint my living room walls because it is just as it looked when 
she last visited. I hate the color. It's beige. The color reminds me of 
the paste that the funeral had put on her face before the real 
make-up was applied.

Furthermore, an agent told us that beige is a neutral color and a good selling point.
I don't want to put a lot of money into repainting since I really just want to move.
I know that everything is in God's timing though.. 

The first step in the right direction was letting go of the stuff and 
buying the necklace.  But, now I'd really like to take a leap! 
I'd like our house to sell, and to start my life again somewhere else. 

In a previous post, I discussed feeling like I was stuck in a boat, and 
going nowhere. Well, now I think I wasn't going anywhere because my
burdens were acting as an anchor. Now that I've gotten rid of the anchor, 
I can feel the boat slowly beginning to sail. But if I could sell our house,
I think I'd really be able to gain some distance. 

I've let go, dumping stuff out of my boat. Out of my life. 
Hopefully, I'll be able to get moving now. 
There will always be problems in life. 
But, I don't think that we have to let them become burdens if 
we give them up to God. Sometimes, we've been carrying a 
burden for so long though, that we don't even realize it until we
finally put it down. 

I've put them down, right at the foot of the cross. 
And I'm ready to sail!  

Letting Go For The Last Time

With grief, there are steps that must be taken.
Part of my process involved giving up many things.

First, it was giving up my mom in physical form.
Accepting that I'd never see or hear her again.

It was walking away from her ashes (at the time) because
the widower wouldn't bury them, even though he was on
the prowl all too soon for a new replacement wife.

It was walking away from having a relationship with 
the widower because he didn't want a genuine relationship
with me; he only wanted to use me.

Then, it was giving up the "Stuff". 
The "Stuff" were things that rightfully belong to me.

The Stuff consisted of items that she had gotten while 
she was still married to my father.  Things that I had 
given to her. Things I had made for her as a child 
before the widower was ever even in our lives. 
And, things my children had made for her.

I carried the hope of getting that Stuff for two years.
But, eventually, hope turned into a burden. But, I carried 
it because the Stuff was the last of what I had of her.
I didn't want to let the stuff go. Yet, I really didn't have 
any of it at all. I only had an illusion.

I had created my own prison. I was inside, the door was
locked, but I also held the key to let myself out.

If I could just touch and hold the Stuff, then somehow, 
I could hold her, hold her memory. 

But recently, I heard God say, "Let it go."
I asked Him, "Let what go, Lord?"
And, He answered, "Let it all go. Let go of the Christmas Stuff.
Let go of the hope of getting it back someday. Let go of your pride."

I thought long and hard about what I heard.
It would mean walking away from the very things that I wanted most.
It would mean humbling myself. 
It would mean putting my faith in God above what I wanted most.
It would hurt so much. 
But, I trust God more.
I came to a decision. 

I told God, "Alright. I'm standing at the foot of the cross, 
and I'm putting it at your feet. All of it. I'm opening my 
hand and my heart and letting it all go. I trust that 
you will give me something better in exchange."

And, He did. He gave me freedom and peace.
By letting the stuff go, I had let go of the burden.
This meant that the stuff didn't control me.
And, it meant that the widower didn't have power over me either.
He couldn't hurt me anymore with the stuff.
God had set me free.

Do I still think that the stuff is rightfully mine? Yes.
But, it's only truly mine if God gives it to me. 
If He doesn't, then it's not meant to be.
I don't feel angry about it anymore.
It's in God's hands now.
I may never see the stuff again, but God gave me something better. 
He gave me freedom and peace.

Last Time

It was on December 10, 2010.
It was a Friday. 
Late afternoon.
It was the last time that I ever talked to her.
She had called me on her cell phone to tell me that she was
on her way home from the hospital..... again. 
That they had stabilized her. 
Given her some more blood. 
(She had leukemia.)

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm on my way home
from the hospital."
"Alright."
"I love you", she said. 
"I love you too, Mom". 
"You promise me that you'll never forget how much I love you?", she asked.
I chuckle, "I promise. You know I won't forget."
"I'll let you go; I'm on my cell phone.", she said.
"Alright, Mom. I love you."
"I love you too, Sweetheart".  
"Bye."
"Good-bye, Honey."
And, she was gone.

It's December 11, 2010.
My family and I went out shopping for Christmas presents. 
I even went into a store to buy something for her.
A mug, with encouraging words on it. 
A devotional, to help her on her journey to recovery.

We knew we wanted to get back home before late because 
a winter storm was due to blow in early evening. 
We got home. And, that's when I heard the phone message.
She was back in the hospital. And, she wasn't doing well. 

The phone rang, "You need to get up here". 
We threw some clothes in a bag as quickly as we could.
And jumped back on the road.
He drove like crazy the whole way there. 
A winter storm right behind us.
But, what we didn't know, was that she had passed away 
after we'd only been on the road for ten minutes.
We still had seven hours to go.

The whole way, I kept praying that she would hold on til I got there.
The whole way I kept asking God to wait.
The whole way, I just prayed and prayed.

It's December 12, 2010
Seven hours later,  we ask what room she is in, and we're 
told to go on another floor. That they'll tell us when we get up there.
He already knew. 
It's 3:30 in the morning.
Up an elevator, around a corner.
I race down the hall. 
I'm scanning the patients as I look for a nurse.
I find the nurse.
Then, she told me. 
"She died". 
Just like that. 
I felt like I had been shot. 
I begin to collapse to the floor, but he catches me.
He holds me up. 
I still can't stand.
He asks me, "Do you want to sit down?"
I nod, "Yes".
And, I just slide, my back against a wall, down to the floor. 

I just sit there, sobbing. 
In shock. 
How could this be?
How could she be gone? 
I was supposed to be there by her side.
But I couldn't make it. 

They lead me to a room. 
A woman comes in to comfort me.
I don't know her. She is staff. 
Then, the widower comes in with his family. 
We're all crying. 
She's gone. 
I still just sit there, in stunned silence.
Still I asked, "How can she be gone?" 
She was there my entire life. 
I ask a nurse, "What happened?!" 
He calmly explained to me that the team did the
best that they could. 
If they did their "best", wouldn't she still be alive?
But, I know that isn't true. 
They did do their best. 
But, they are not God. 

I just sit there for a long while. 
Silent. 
Finally, they tell me that we need to go.
I don't want to. 
I want to stay.
Stay where she breathed her last breath.
But, I can't. 
I have to go.

So, I walk out of the hospital.
It's still night. 
It's still black outside. 
The dark sky seems to match my grief.

A few days later, I begin my search for an outfit for the funeral.
All the damn Christmas lights. 
Why were they so bright? 
They just seemed to mock my pain. 
The Christmas music. 
Singing so joyously over the store speakers.
It made me cringe. 
It was too happy in the store.
I wanted to yell, "Why are all of you so damn happy?!"
"There is nothing to be happy about!" 
But, I didn't. 
I just turned off my hearing aids to block out the sound. 


I get through the funeral.
I get through Christmas.
But, I'm numb through it all.
Then, on January 1st, I return home for the first time
since that night we left to drive to the hospital. 
For the first time it all sinks in. 
She is gone. 
She is gone. 
She is gone. 

And then, it all begins. 
My life.
My life without her.
Putting the pieces back together.
Only, they can't be put back how they were.
They have to be rearranged. 
And so, for two years, I let God build and rebuild my heart.
Piece by piece.
Day by day.
He puts it back together.
But, it isn't as it once was. 
There is a hole where she used to be. 
But, the hole is there to remind me of her.
All that she meant to me. And, all that she still means to me.
I'll never stop loving her.
And, as I promised her, I'll never forget how much she loved me.

Fairy tales & Marriage

As a teenager, I would lay in bed, praying to God, asking Him if 

He had a husband for me. A man who wanted a girl like me

to be his wife. 

As a young adult, I still prayed for a man to be my husband; 

one who would be faithful, honest, caring, and love me

all of the days of my life. (I was starting to worry because I felt

that I would be an "old maid" forever as I began to approach 
the ripe old age of twenty.)

Then, it happened one day. A good friend of mine set me up

on a blind date with a wonderful man who eventually asked 

my hand in marriage. 

So, then the bliss began. Ideas of how it would all be. 

We would love each other everyday. We'd never get 

irritated with each other. It would be just like living a fairy tale.

After about a week had passed since saying, "I do!", my dreamy 
fairy tale ideas of life had seemed to quickly turn into a suspense mystery.

Why weren't we getting along? Why couldn't he see things my way?
Why did we have to have pineapple and ham pizza..... again?

As the years passed, I seemed to focus more on our differences.
And, I viewed those differences as a flaw. I felt we weren't similar enough.
He is laid back, I'm uptight.
He has a sense of humor, I'm serious.
He is a pack rat, I'm a minimalist. 
He insists he have meat on his pizza, I'm a vegetable lover. 

And, I say to him, "You drive me nuts!", and he will look at 
me and say, "And, I will always love you." And, that would drive 
me more crazy still. 

But, then, as the pages began to turn in our life together, I started 
to see us differently. Sure, he hasn't changed. But, my view has changed.

He is still laid back, but his ease balances me out.
His sense of humor makes a difficult situation more bearable and
much less stressful.
He is still a pack rat, but I think that one day, he just might 
be the envy of our children's friends.
And, we still can't agree on pizza. 

When we were first married, I thought I'd have a fairy tale life. 
The fluffy, superficial kind of fairy tale. 
Living in a modern day castle while wearing luxury clothes.
I wanted an easy life. A life filled with shopping, shoes, and friends.
And, I suppose that some people have a marriage like that.
But, we don't. Instead, we are living an adventure.
Our life is a crazy ride, unfolding before us, and we 
hold tight to each other's hand, as we go through it all. 
   
And, over time, I learned that it's not about singing birds, 
fancy houses, or a luxury car. It's about sharing diaper duty, 
washing and drying dishes side by side, visits to the ER, 
and watching each other turn gray. Sure, I'll never dance 
in a fancy ballroom, but true love is about dancing in the kitchen,
to a favorite song, by a single light after the children are all in bed. 
It's about making a sick or tired spouse feel more comfortable, 
when I already feel exhausted myself. It's about praying 
for the one I walk through this life with, for better or worse, 
for richer or poorer, in sickness and health. 

Yes, he still drives me nuts. But, when he tells me, "And, I'll always
love you", I know that this marriage isn't meant to be a fairy tale. 
But that we were brought together to learn and to grow as one, 
with God leading the way. 

Pictures

Pictures. 
They've been around for quite some time.
Our reasons for taking them haven't really changed.
We take them to remember meaningful events in our lives.
We take them to remember those we love and cherish. 
Sometimes, we take them so we can remember who 
we were ourselves. Simply put, they are captured memories.

But, what fascinates me about pictures are the emotions
that they can evoke. Or even the lack thereof. 

I can look at a picture of my mother. 
And, I see a woman who raised me, who shed tears, 
who caressed my hair when I scraped a knee or when 
I told her that a boy had broken my heart. 

I see a woman who had to work too hard, who had beautiful 
sea blue eyes, a giving heart, a woman who was camera shy.

A picture of my mother takes me back to memories 
of yesteryear. It stirs deep feelings of happiness 
and grief.

Now, someone else who never knew my mother, could look
at the same picture and only see a nameless person. 

They would see a tall woman with dark hair and large curls that
frame her face. They would see a woman with a closed smile, 
dressed in a decade style appropriate outfit. They see her
hands clasped together. And, this picture would evoke no 
emotion whatsoever for the viewer of the photograph. 

It is interesting to me how a picture to one person can mean
everything in the world. Yet, to another, it is simply a 
person posing for the camera. 

And, pictures aren't the only way we remember. 
It is anything that connects us to our loved ones, to our past, to our home. 
A quilt, a cup, a piece of childhood art,..........or a photo. 
It helps us stay connected to those we love, those
who are far, and those who have gone on ahead 
to Heaven.

When someone looks at a picture of my mother, they'll 
simply see a lovely lady posing for the camera. 
But, I'll always see a picture of love. 

The Mess of Grief II

I'm still in the boat that I was in two years ago.
The waves have calmed down. 
The water is placid. 
There is no agony or grief swirling around me anymore. 
The darkness has parted. 
The light is visible. 
Yet, here I still sit. 

I'm still lost. 
God put my heart back together.
I've gotten back into the game of life. 
I just don't know what to do with my life, 
or how to use it to serve God.
I'm still lost. 
I still don't know what to do or where to go.
My boat isn't moving. 
Not in any direction. 
No wind to guide it, not even a hint of a breeze. 

The business of sitting still and waiting for God is........
frustrating, lonely, and has it's own kind of agony.

I know God's lighthouse is there. 
It's the biggest one, I can't really miss it.
But, it's not sending me any sign of where to go, 
or what to do. 
No signal. Nothing.
I know that I'm not meant to sit in this boat forever. 
I could just row and go, but then I'd be taking things 
into my own hands without a clue of where I was headed. 

I know there is a shore for me to land upon. 
I just can't see it yet. 
I worry that I've already pulled onto shore, 
and I just don't realize it because I'm looking 
at it all wrong. 
As though maybe I'm looking at the dirt under my
feet instead of the panoramic view. 
But, I really don't think that is the case. 

So, for now, I sit in my boat. 
I wait for God. 
I wait for Him to give me a direction, a breeze, 
or a good, strong wind to send me on my way. 

Dear Heavenly Father, 
Please help me. Please send me on my way so that
I may reach another shore. A place where I can find 
hope, friendship, inspiration, and a way to serve You. 
In Jesus' name I pray, Amen. 

You & I and the Difference

I mentioned in a previous post that it is difficult to describe hearing loss in 
a neat package. It is hard to give a whole picture in just a few short words. 
So, I wanted to try and paint another picture of what it can be like to have
hearing loss. I can't speak for everyone else, but this is what it's like for me.

You wake up to music playing on your clock radio. 
I wake up to a vibration under my pillow.

You hear the water hit the tub as you shower.
I feel the water on my skin.

You hear your children, and know that they are laughing.
I hear my children, and need to see that they are not hurt.

You hear laughter and giggling.
I see eyes and lips smiling.

You  hear someone knock at your door.
My children alert me when someone arrives. 

You hear the birds chirping and singing nearby.
I see birds take flight and sit in the birdbath. 

You feel the wind blowing in your hair.
I hear it roaring like the sea in my ears.

While in a parking lot, you hear a car's engine.
I see the brake lights. 

You walk confidently.
I step cautiously. 

You hear a person clearly, and respond appropriately.
I hear syllables, and ask the person to repeat what they said.

You listen for your children.
I watch for mine. 

You hear an oven beeper going off, signaling that dinner is ready.
I carefully watch the clock and smell the aromas drifting. 

You carry on a conversation while washing dishes.
I must stop washing, turn to the person speaking, and read their lips.

You settle in for an evening of television.
I watch the captions as they pass over my screen.

While laying in bed in the dark, you make small talk with your spouse.
I ask mine if there is anything I need to hear before I take out my hearing aids.

You and your spouse exchange I love you's before turning over to sleep.
My husband and I make the sign for I love you, and press our hands together. 

This describes some typical situations during an ordinary day of my life. 
Many hard of hearing folks experience similar situations, but still, each
person is different and unique. And, what might be for one individual, 
will not necessarily be for another. I'm just trying to paint a clearer picture 
for better understanding. 








  

Intro to Homeschool

I haven't typed anything about homeschooling. 
Yet, it takes up most of my day, almost every day. 
It is the reason that if you drop by my house unannounced, 
you'll likely find it less then perfect. 
It is the reason that, when I begin to clean vigorously,
 my children instinctively ask, "Who's coming over?" 
It is the reason why I keep wine in my fridge at all times. 
(And, you're probably wondering, "Is she kidding, or not?")

I began homeschooling in 2005. 
I didn't plan it that way. No. I was your typical mom.
My son and I got the snazzy Thomas the Train backpack
with matching lunch box. We got the extra pair of sneakers
for gym class. I dreamed of having homemade chocolate chip 
cookies and milk set out for him when he arrived 
home from school. But, that is not how it was to be. 

Instead, as problems kept cropping up for my son at school, 
I began to hear God whispering into my heart, "Homeschool". 
My response was: "Yeah, I cleaned some houses for some 
ladies that homeschooled their kids, that was nice. But, Lord, 
this is ME you're talking to; and I wouldn't even know 
where to begin!"

Well, it just so happened that while I was at a crossroads about
the matter, I met a homeschool mom at our local library. I knew
that God had put her there for a reason. She used to be a teacher, 
and she happened to be from the same state as I. She was very
knowledgeable, and answered any questions I had about homeschooling.
That is when I made up my mind to follow God's calling for me 
to homeschool. 


Is it easy? No. 
Is it worth it? I think so. 
Am I trying to shelter my children? Not really.
Only from what children shouldn't know before they're 
ready to understand. 
Do I think that I can do better then a school teacher? 
Yes. Nobody else will teach my children one-on-one.
A teacher will not have compassion or love for my child 
the way that I do. 
Do I think that teachers are bad? No, absolutely not. 
Do I think that all parents should homeschool? 
Are you kidding me? No. Not all parents are meant to 
homeschool their child. 

Homeschool is hard work. 
It takes commitment. 
It takes sacrifice. 
It is a huge responsibility. 
Sometimes, it can be costly.

Homeschooling means:
*possibly having a messy house part or all of the time.
*not having much time to spend by yourself. 
*not being able to go at a moment's notice to hang
  out with a friend or go shopping.
*maybe making financial sacrifices.

But, it also means:
*watching your children grow each day.
*growing closer as a family.
*knowing who your child's friends are.
*ensuring their safety. 
*teaching them about appropriate subjects at the appropriate time.
*allowing them to explore and learn about what they find fascinating. 
*and if you're a Christian, nurturing them to have a relationship with Christ. 

I believe that each parent needs to do what is best for his/her
own child. Each and every child is different. But, I would also
like respect for choosing to homeschool my own children. 
I don't think that parents are wrong for putting their children
in a public or private school. Please don't judge me for 
homeschooling mine. 

I took my son out of school for several reasons.
I felt that he could gain a better education at home then what
the school offered. I also wanted him to grow in Christ, and have 
a deep relationship with Him. I wanted him to enjoy his childhood
at home. And, I also homeschool him because his school, located 
in the country and surrounded by corn, does not consist 
of central air conditioning. The school has ceiling fans 
and windows for ventilation. This doesn't work well for my child
who has asthma and allergies. 

Everyone's child is different and unique.
Everyone has different reasons for homeschooling. 
Everyone has different reasons for putting their child
in a public or private school. But, ultimately, all parents 
are just doing what they feel is best for their own child. 

If you are considering homeschool, or you're just curious, 
you may ask me questions, and I'll do my best to answer them. 

The Blessings Of Hearing Loss

I am all for praising God and thanking Him for the blessings that

we receive. It's easy to do when things are going well, or we get

what we were praying for. 

But, what about praising God during turmoil, or for something

that we won't fully understand until we go Home? 

It has been put upon my heart to try and find the good in 

having a hearing loss. To try and have a thankful heart about

something that I feel has brought me much pain, embarrassment,

and frustration. 

At first, I just shrugged at the thought, and said to myself,

"That's easy, I can fall asleep without my husband keeping me 

awake with his snoring!" But, I knew that God meant for me 

to go beyond that.... far beyond that. So, I started thinking, 

"What in the world could I be thankful for about my hearing loss?"

Good grief! It seemed a hard question with even harder answers. 

After I began taking the question more seriously, the first

thing that came to mind was my dependence on God. We 

quickly became good friends in my childhood. I would talk

to Him whenever I was afraid. (This was usually at bedtime,

while laying in the dark, unable to hear much of anything.)

I would talk to Him like a friend, pray out loud with my small

hands clasped together until I fell fast asleep.

My hearing loss is a constant reminder that I am blessed 

to be alive right now. As a newborn, I nearly died. They

expected me to die. My mother told me that I was nicknamed

"Miracle Baby".  I often wonder if my hearing loss is a 

reminder from God that he allowed me to live and experience

all that He has to offer. 

Being hearing impaired, I miss a lot of spoken language. 

I am often unaware of what I am missing. This is a 

blessing in that I generally miss dirty jokes, inappropriate

language, and sometimes, I miss the rude comments that

were meant to hurt me. 

I think that having a hearing loss has given me a larger heart.

I try to help many. I know what it's like to need the help 

of others on a regular basis. 

I think that it has made me sensitive to the pain of others. 

I know what it's like to be hurt or humiliated for something 

that is completely out of my control. And, I hate to see 

others suffer. 

It has also made me very grateful for this life, and those who 

share it with me. Many people walk away once they realize 

that I am hearing impaired. But, for those who stay, for those

who get to know me, for those who love me, I am very grateful. 

I'm not saying that hearing people are incapable of being 

sensitive, grateful, or giving. I am saying that if I were

a hearing person, I believe that I would not be able to be as

sensitive, grateful, or as giving as I can be as a person with a 

profound hearing loss. 

So now I wonder. 

Is my hearing loss a reminder that I am blessed to be alive?

Or did I nearly die so that I could be given the blessing

of hearing loss? 

I never thought of my hearing loss as being a blessing 

from God............until now.