It all started while visiting a church this morning, and seeing that the first 3 rows on the left, were reserved for the deaf. We sat behind those seats, and I watched with grateful eyes, as the interpreter signed the songs, and the pastors message to the inhabitants of those rows. It was angelic, and touched the deepest parts of my heart to see people worshiping the Lord through sign language.
This might have touched you as well, as signing is a beautiful language, but I think it touched me because my youngest child has progressive hearing loss.
My son has spent 10 of his 13 years on the planet visiting the Children’s ENT of Atlanta. He has had a couple sets of tubes, beginning at age one. He has had his adenoids and tonsils out, not at the same time I might add. He has had a “strep” abscess removed and another that dissipated through IV medication and a week in the Children’s Hospital. He actually has a myriad of other health issues, but none as visible as his hearing aids.
The doctors have tentatively diagnosed him with “progressive hearing loss”. What that really means is that they know he has lost many levels of hearing, progressively, and they assume he will continue to follow that pattern. We have endured many tests, and are about to see a Genetics Doctor, to undergo more testing. The cause for this hearing loss is still a mystery. So, we go to the audiologist every 3 months for hearing tests and adjustments, and we see the doctor every 6 months, wherein we ask the same things and he gives us the same answers. There is nothing they can do about the ringing in his ears. They don’t know why this is happening, and he could loose all hearing ability at anytime. Or not…. Really.
We have gotten very used to this routine. Almost numbly used to it.
When we were told that the time had come for hearing aids, I cried a lot. Then I prayed, and gave it all to God. Peace came over me like a wave, and I have been strong ever since. That was a year and a half ago. Today, out of the blue, I saw those radiant people, who could not hear the music, but were praising God with their bodies and hands, and I cried again.
A good friend of mine asked me once, why I wasn’t mad at my God for my sons health issues. I cannot be mad because I know there is more to this life. My hope is not in the flesh, but in the Spirit and the Spirit is eternal. Being mad at anything you have no control over is also a waste of energy, and will steal your joy and hope. I felt sad today, but not sad in a mad kinda way, but in a realization that my son might have to connect with God on a different level than me. A level that I don’t understand. Apparently, as a mom, that can make you cry… Do I ever wish that this cup shall pass? Yes. My prayer is for hearing restored, but if it’s not, I know I will be OK and so will my son. Really.