I've been trying to be strong.
Looking forward to the new opportunities medical technology affords the hearing impaired, I've tried not to look at "what ifs." Tried not to look at loss.
If I don't look at it then I am normal. Nothing has changed. Except everything has changed.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." - Phillipians 4:13
"We gain strength and courage and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face. We must do that which we think we cannot." – Eleanor Roosevelt
"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." - Dori
But then it happened.
Last Sunday night my middle children were watching Lord of the Rings in the living room. I was in the kitchen getting something to drink. I looked across the room and saw Gandalf. It was such a silly thing to breach the dam. But it did. And they came.
Hot. Bitter. Stinging.
Sorrow. Regret. Selfishness.
All mixed together. And I was inconsolable.
It's crazy, but seeing his face without hearing his beautiful, deep voice was just so sad.
All of the things this disease has stolen from me came into view.
I thought of those movies – Gandalf's voice. Pounding Nazgul horses' hooves. Armor being prepared for battle at Helm's Deep.
My children's voices.
What if it never comes back? What if cochlear implants don't work for me? I have to face the reality that may be mine. I may never hear again.
And yet, I am still me. There IS still joy. I know because others have walked this journey before me and they tell me it is so.
Though the grasping may be difficult, it is not impossible.
So I wipe my face.
Square my shoulders.
Face another day.
"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning." Psalm 30:5