My Fraility

Something very funny has been going on around the house for quite a while now. Beginning some years ago, when Caleb had just begun college or there-abouts, he and his siblings, talking with Cynth would respond back to her. Cynth would then respond to what she heard, which never fit the response from the kids, so they would all say to her, "Don't guess!" since then she has gotten better, or maybe the kids have just given up. Still there are moments when it seems both she and I cannot understand a word the other is saying, no matter how plain spoken.

As a child, I guess it was often funny to talk to my (maternal) grandparents, mainly my grandpa, because he had difficulty hearing plainly. It often made for very funny but embarrassing encounters, say in the church just about the time for the worship to start. But now here I am, as well as my lovely bride. Oh, I don't think there is anything much wrong with our hearing that an uncluttered mind wouldn't go to significant lengths to help. But it does provide food for thought.

Some of you know, but many may not, that the ultrasound which was ordered by the doctors at Georgetown to identify any blockage around the liver that could have contributed to the elevated enzyme and subsequent disqualification of the suggested trial last week, in fact showed no blockage of any type. There may in fact be perfectly normal processes that led to the rise, but we may not know until we go back to Georgetown later this month. So for now we complete the radiation, then on to Georgetown to see what to do next. As I said, though, this gives food for thought.

Since fourth grade I have worn corrective lens of one fashion or another for myopia and one of the many reasons I feel tremendously blessed to have had a career as a United States Air Force aircrew member. The myopia is instructive, also, because it gives me a ready illustration of my sin. Always looking inward, seeing all my faults, seeing (not yet fully) the depths of my depravity, and always seeing me in my worst, instead of God who is closer still. It is so much easier still to see me in my miserable state, than the glorious love and grace which is showered down on me. Is it not a wonder that God seems often distant, removed, even unapproachable?

But add to this the hearing difficulties, and you begin to get a sense of the human condition. I found today that this problem of hearing is likely the worse of the two. We want desperately to hear good tidings of great joy, but our eyes fool us that those tidings cannot be for us, or we're afraid to hope that they could mean all they could mean for us. So we "block" the hearing, stifle the waves of sound in a vain attempt at protecting ourselves from hurt.

It seems that I cannot even hear the words I wrote in my previous post. Saturday started off just fine. A morning clap of thunder gave way to one of those nice easy late summer morning storms with good rain. Then sunshine. Somewhere into the afternoon, though, I began to feel it. The shadows were forming and spreading doubt, fear, some anxiety, even depression, slowly over the remainder of the day. Just when I should revel in the comfort of God my father, I too easily gave way to the encroaching darkness, and soon, what had been so uplifting for me a day ago, though still profoundly meaningful, and right, now seemed so distant, foreign. The concepts God taught me, against the onslaught of the afternoon, I chose to turn from, not run to.

Would that God would be pleased to give me a softened heart, receptive ears, clear eyes that are turned and tuned to his perfect will and provision for me. I also pray for more grace and wisdom for Cynth as she helps me in this particular struggle.