Say What?

My daughter Meghann was born with double ear infections and spent the first few days of her life in the neonatal unit. She had three sets of tubes placed in her ears before she was three years old, with the first tube surgery happening when she was only seven months old. She spent a ton of time crying ... actually she screamed rather than cried ... with her ears during her early years of life. Even now, she often experiences excruciating pain in her ears when she travels to the mountains of Colorado. The doctors told us from early on that she would most definitely suffer hearing loss as she grew older, but amazingly, her hearing has always been perfect ... unless of course you count the selective hearing episodes she experienced during her teen years.

As a parent, I think we often want to empathize with our children as they suffer illness or hurt or struggles in life. I think it's hardwired into us especially as mothers to be able to say, "I know exactly how you feel, honey." When I would hold little Meghann, rock her and try to soothe her as she suffered through one ear infection after another, I could never truly say that I understood what she was going through because I never had ear infections as a child or in my youth. Never ever. I find it more than a bit odd that now as an adult, I've had multiple ear infections over the last few years. And each time that throbbing pain returns to my ears, I immediately think of my little girl and how much she suffered when she was young. Twenty years later, I get it, Meggers ... I understand now ... I know what you went through.

I'm in the midst of another ear infection, and I've been miserable for the last two days. I feel like there's an ocean sloshing around in my head, I'm running a fever, there's an annoying ringing in my left ear, my balance is a mess, and everything sounds muffled and far away. It's kind of like the way you feel after you go to a really loud concert or a sporting event in a large stadium ... not able to hear very well and sort of out of kilter all the way around.

To say that I slept in short spurts for the last couple of nights is a huge understatement ... I have tossed and turned and taken Tylenol and gotten up to get a drink of water and paced the floor holding a hot cloth against my ears. As I cooked myself some breakfast this morning so that I could take all my medication, I said aloud to the dogs, "My ears are killing me, pups. And I can't hear anything." Stirring my sugar-free chocolate syrup into my almond milk ... yeah, I know, it sounds disgusting ... I began to think about the difference between hearing and listening. How many times do I hear God speaking to me, but I don't really listen? How many times do I hear what He's teaching me in His Word, but I don't really listen? How many times do I hear His leading through the counsel of friends, but I don't really listen?

Open my ears, Lord ... not just to hear, but to really and truly listen.