Hearing

January 23, 2019

Crowds bother me. It’s not that I don’t like people; in small doses or one on one they’re fine, but when too many of them are all in one place, a crowd becomes for me an isolation booth. While others are talking, laughing, having a good time, their voices to me are a cacophonous jumble of indistinct sounds. I see lips moving, with not a clue as to what is being said. Two people sitting on either side of me can have a conversation back and forth with me not able to figure out what they’re talking about. It can be frustrating; those whose hearing is good have no idea how much deafness cuts one off from life. If nothing else, I often worry that people think I’m stuck up or angry because I don’t enter into conversations.

When I started writing about the things for which I was thankful, the author whose writings inspired me spoke of “hard eucharistos,” blessings that don’t at first appear to be blessings. My hearing loss is one such gift. Rather than wallow in self-pity, I am learning to use this condition for good. If you’ve ever been to a swim meet, you know that the sound booms and echoes off the hard surfaces of tile floors and walls, and concrete ceilings. It’s like sitting for hours inside a drum. Tonight at our granddaughter’s swim meet, while those with me were conversing, I used the time to converse with God. Nearly three hours was given to me. I couldn’t pray without ceasing, as Paul would say; the noise was distracting. But I was able to pray more than if I had been home, with things to do, and one on one conversations with my wife.

There is a second blessing in my condition. The Bible tells how Jesus healed those who were deaf. He hasn’t yet done that for me, but he does have a track record of doing so, which gives me hope. And if it doesn’t happen in this life, when it comes time to hear the angels sing, I will appreciate it all the more for being able to hear the full range of sound for the first time in my life.