Thankful for you

(Much of the correspondence that takes place among my church seems to end with the same affection: "Thankful for you." Hence, the title, apropos to this sincere story of appreciation for my church family.)

Today, I went up to my church to help wrap gifts for Affordable Christmas - an event that gives families in our community an opportunity to purchase Christmas gifts at extremely reduced prices. It's an amazing way to get to know the people who live in the area where the church is and I really enjoyed chatting with the families who came. And somehow wrapping gifts seems so much more fun when it's for someone else! :)

Before I went up to the church for my shift, though, I was battling anxiety and almost wanted to back out. I knew that the gift wrappers would be in the gallery, an area that tends to render almost everyone hard of hearing on Sunday mornings because it's not the most acoustically sound (ha, see what I did there?) place in the building. In other words, it be loud up in there! I only have one good hearing aid right now while I wait for new ear molds to arrive at my audiologist's office. I can't lipread and wrap presents at the same time. How was I going to engage with the shoppers and wrap their gifts at the same time, unable to filter out the dull roar of background noise?

But I was convicted that not going would be worse, so I made my way over and asked the gift wrap coordinator if she could pair me with another gift wrapper so that someone would have my back if communication became a problem. She happily teamed me up with another volunteer who graciously answered questions that I missed  hearing and helped carry on conversations with the shoppers. While all that was going on, we worked together to wrap gifts. I'm so thankful for those two ladies who were willing to help me be part of the team!

That led me to reflect on the other ways I'm able to serve my church family. I help our children's ministry most Sundays and there have been a few times where I wondered if I was the best person for the job. Trying to field questions from parents and volunteers, help volunteers troubleshoot the check-in process, interact with kids who haven't learned how to enunciate yet... all in the very same gallery that reaches fever pitch every week. Shouldn't someone with better hearing be doing this? Would I serve my church family better by stepping down and letting someone who is better equipped step up? Am I making Sunday mornings more complicated for other volunteers who have to do their own jobs in addition to helping me communicate?

But every time I've raised the question with other volunteers or staff, the answer has been a firm "NO." If anything, they ask me what else they can do to make sure that I am able to fulfill my duties every Sunday. They don't let my disability get in the way of my ability to serve! They don't just minister to me and make me the object of their compassion and kindness - though they do that as well! - they equip me to serve along with them. They embrace 1 Corinthians 12, especially verses 14-26:

For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body. 

The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you." On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.

Having the right heart and attitude toward someone who lives with a disability is so important for a church that is seeking to love the "weaker" members. Formal ministries and programs and schedules and plans and events can be good ways for a church to connect with those who have a disability, but all of those would fall short without the right heart. I'm grateful to be part of a church that faithfully preaches God's goodness in and sovereignty over the hard things like disability and takes the Bible seriously when it says that we are all one in Christ.

So church family, I am indeed thankful for you, and delighted to grow with you - for God's glory and our joy!

I want to help because I want to belong

During my first semester of living on campus, I was the last person to join the suite. There were a total of six girls sharing one bathroom and no kitchen (I'll let you use your imagination to determine how that worked out. I'll give you a hint: not well). The small suite actually had three bedrooms, with two roommates per room. The chore list rotated among each set of roommates and even though I had only been there for a couple of days, I was eager to pitch in. But my new roommate wouldn't hear of it. "Oh no!" she insisted. "You just got here, so it's not fair to ask you to clean up our messes. I'll take care of it."

I couldn't explain to her why her well-meaning brush-off bothered me. I didn't know why I, a devout disciple of disarray, was suddenly verrrry concerned with emptying the trash can. I just knew I was frustrated and I vented my feelings to one of our suite-mates, who basically said, "Well, I told her [my roommate] to let you help her clean so you would feel included!" I still don't know how someone who had only known me a few days was able to tell me something about myself that even I didn't know about, but I'm glad she did. I learned something important that day - inclusion takes on many different forms.

As someone who is hard of hearing, when I complain about not being included, I usually mean that I'm frustrated with being left out of a conversation. I am always trying to position myself strategically so that I can see who is talking. I map out the best place to sit in a room and am learning to do a better job of asking people to clarify when I don't understand something or if I'm not confident I heard them correctly. I ask people to look at me when they talk and occasionally, I've had to had some difficult conversations with friends and roommates when I've been discouraged over being left out. Being able to participate by speaking up and feeling a sense of belonging by being heard are important and, I would guess, often taken for granted by those who can hear. People who are deaf/hard of hearing and people who are hearing need to be aware of this and both parties should take responsibility to ensure inclusive communication for all.

However, what I learned in college, and what I'm still learning today, is that including others and taking steps to include yourself is just half of the equation. I want to be included so that I can participate. I want to be a part of what is going in, to be in the middle of the action, to feel like I belong. I won't always be able to be part of conversations, so I look for other ways to include myself. One of the ways I do that is to help others. I may not be able to catch every piece of the chatter around the dinner table, but I can help clear the dishes and feel like I contributed something to the evening. I can't always keep up with a group of friends, but I can pitch in by watching their kids or helping them move. I may not be able to hear, but there are a lot of things that I can do. Being hard of hearing doesn't render me useless - there is still a lot that I can and want to contribute. So sometimes, when I ask someone, "Can I help you with anything?" what I might really mean is, "Is there anything I can do so that I can feel like I'm part of the group?" (That's not to say that I want someone to just make up a task to make me feel better about myself - I would rather do something that is either genuinely helpful or nothing at all.)

You don't have to be hard of hearing to understand the desire to fit in or to belong. Can you think of a time when you wanted to participate but felt like you couldn't?

And if you are hard of hearing (or know someone who is), do you find yourself offering to help so that you can feel like you are part of the group? Or is that just me?

Post-convention withdrawals

Getting on the plane to come back home after the HLAA Convention was hard. Not because I couldn't understand the airline employee. Not because I was worried about traveling alone or trying to avoid the reality of going back to a routine come Monday. Not even because I loved DC so much that my inner history nerd could probably pack up and move there if given the chance.

No, coming home was hard because it meant leaving behind 1,200 people who get hearing loss. No, I didn't get to know each and every one of them. But for a few brief days, I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. When I asked someone to repeat themselves, no one rolled their eyes or sighed or looked startled - repeating is a natural part of the conversation among the deaf and hard of hearing. Communicating was comfortable and I never felt excluded from the conversation.

Don't get me wrong. Many of my friends and all of my family can hear. I love them dearly and I know the feeling is mutual. I appreciate it when they are sensitive to my hearing loss and work to include me in their activities. They are thoughtful and understand that sometimes I need a sensory break. They know to sit where I can see them and to speak clearly but not over-enunciate. I treasure these labors of love, though I know many of my friends and family would take issue with me calling it a "labor." "It's really not," they'll insist, and for that, I am grateful.

But as well-meaning and kind as my hearing friends and family are, there is just something that clicks more when I am with other deaf and hard of hearing people. It was a welcome break to be with other people who knew exactly what I meant and how I felt when I relayed the story of that one time my audiologist turned his back to me while he talked. We laughed together at the irony that even among other deaf and hard of hearing people, we still had to ask what was going on and who said what. We discussed hearing aid brands the way other people might discuss their favorite cars. We have our own vocabulary - audiogram, cochlear implants, CapTel and looping are probably not part of a typical lexicon.

Sometimes, when I am in a group of hearing people, who are all talking and my eyes are darting around the room, trying to figure out who is talking and what they are talking about and then trying to track that conversation as it flies from mouth to mouth... sometimes, I feel incapable. Like I am not smart. Like I don't have anything to contribute. I understand that may be my own faulty perception. Yes, there are strategies I can employ to maximize my group experience. No, I don't use them as often as I should. Yes, this is an exhausting lifestyle sometimes!

I came home to a Facebook message from one of my new friends that I had met at the convention."I eavesdropped a little on a conversation you were having," he explained. "I liked what you had to say." And I realized why leaving DC was so hard. Because I felt smart and capable, like I had something to say and to contribute. For lack of a better term, I felt more like a person.

Being hard of hearing in a hearing world is not the worst thing to happen to me. Not by a long shot. But I do often struggle with feeling like I live on the outside of things, always on the edge of everyone else's experiences. Helen Keller said, "Blindness separates us from things but deafness separates us from people." That separation is hard to bear sometimes, and that's why being around other deaf and hard of hearing people is a relief: I don't have to work so hard to understand and be understood. We know how to communicate so that everyone is included.

I'm glad I have a growing community of deaf and hard of hearing friends here at home, but I'm excited to make new friends across the country, too!

Next year in Rhode Island - who's with me?!

Catching a whiff

Is Sunday the start of your week or the end of it? I can never decide.

The last couple of Sundays, I'v noticed that I come home smelling a lot better than when I left it. I mean, I use deodorant and everything (not like that one time), but I'm not really a body spray or perfume kind of girl. But after a morning of hugging various friends (and let's face it, the gallery just gets real crowded real fast), their body spray rubs off on me so when I get home, I have some sweet scents to remember the day by. Which is kind of lovely.

And maybe a little creepy.

Happy Thanksgiving Week!

(P.S. I've enabled comment moderation. Lame, I know. Just go with it.)

I'd rather have a pity party, thanks.

That's what I said when one of my co-workers offered me an orange. For the Vitamin C. Because I was busy nursing a sore throat. Cough, cough. I'm a smidge overdramatic when battling viruses. Little bit.

Anywhozzle, sometimes when I get sick, or when I have a lot of things to bring in from the car, or when I have a lot of housework to do, I think, "Score one for roommates." (I pretty much have a daily "roommate vs. living alone" kind of mental scoreboard going on. Just go with it.) Sure, living with people is hard. They don't always do their chores. Or maybe you do something that irritates them. Schedules conflict and decorating preferences clash. It can be rough.

But it's nice to be able to text someone and ask for help bringing on all the groceries. Or share the burden of chores. Or bring you soup when you're sick... or at least throw some sympathizing glances your way. And good roommates - if you are lucky enough that they are good friends, too - will say things like, "You kind of suck right now." And yes, that counts as a point for the roommate scenario.

This is the epiphany I had the other day. I mentioned briefly that sometimes I feel like my life is full of busy-ness but devoid of meaningful relationships. Then I started thinking about what I wanted my relationships to look like and why they did not look like that. There are a lot of factors. Schedules. Personalities. Priorities. Normal things. Neutral things. But outside of those, something I kept coming back to was: me. Maybe I'm one of the reasons that I don't have the relationships that I want. So I've been praying. And thinking. What are the things that I do or don't do that might turn people off? That might be overwhelming? That might just plain annoy others?

And then I realized, it would take me a long time to come up with that answer on my own. When I look in the mirror, I do see a sinner, but I tend to under-emphasize my sinfulness and exaggerate my awesomeness. So unless someone comes up and holds a different kind of mirror up to me and says, "Hey, you are being really dumb and it really hurts my feelings when you ________." Or, "I think that you are making a mistake by ___________." Even, "When you do _______, it is overwhelming/frustrating/irritating."

Those are hard things to hear. And I confess that I don't handle critique well. I want to be a more gracious person and take correction like a grown up, not a three year old with a temper tantrum. But if I don't know my sins, how will I grow? If I can't see the things that are keeping me from focusing all of my attention on Christ, how will I learn? How can I have genuine relationships with people if no one tells me how I'm being dishonest?

I need people to tell me when I'm being dumb. Left to my own devices, I'm going to think I am pretty hot stuff. I'll strut around, patting myself on the back for my good deeds or for being the most mature person the room (never mind that I'm the only person in the room).

I've had a few roommates who were willing to do that for me. At the time, I was mad at them for doing it. How dare they have the audacity to tell Awesome Me that I was really a Sinful Me? What I didn't know then was that it was the most loving thing they could have done. Thanks, ladies.

(And no, it's not just roommates who do that. Friends. Family. I was just reflecting on roommates in particular but by no means is saying hard things limited to people who occupy the same household.)

Hey, you know how when you let out a really big sneeze and you get light-headed for a few minutes and you can pretty much feel your eyes glazing over with that weird "I'm getting sick" look and your core body temperature rises about 500 degrees and you start saying loopy things like "One time, at band camp..."?

No?

Oh, me either.

If you need me, I'll be delirious with cough suppressant and carrying on a conversation with the light switch.

Contributing with disability - Part 5-ish

Whew. I made it. Part 5-ish. I don't know how some bloggers manage to do this every. single. day. Kudos to those who do! I've learned a lot from writing this little series and I'm so grateful for the discussion it's sparked. I hope we'll keep on discussing and talking and thinking and engaging. Community-ing, if you will.

Defining disability - Part 1
The kinship of disability - Part 2
A proper response to disability - Part 3
Learning from disability - Part 4

Anyway, so all week long I've been talking about what the church can and needs to do for those with disabilities. But as with most things in life, it's a two-way street, you know. Those of us who do live with disabilities cannot just stand around, waiting to be served. My friend Carin commented on one of my earlier posts and I thought she made a great point:

"Disabled" people also need to get involved and do things they are gifted and able to do. ... [W]e who are viewed as "disabled" have a responsibility to become involved and serve as well. And it need not be only in the area of our "disability" as you said. For example, as a deaf person, I am still able to serve my church family in many ways - not only the deaf - but my CHURCH FAMILY (all of them!). There are some things that I am not able to do well because of my hearing loss, but there are many other things I CAN do to serve. I need to do some of them and not just sit back with the attitude that "oh I am deaf..."

People with disabilities are often just as guilty of perpetuating division within the church by demanding this service or that accommodation, or by sequestering themselves with people who are like them. I know that sometimes I am tempted to think that because I have a disability that my suffering is more unbearable than someone else's, or that I am worthy of more attention because of it. But that is not true at all. Disabled or not, we are all sinners in need of a Savior and ought to serve one another in light of that truth. When I look at a brother or sister, I shouldn't see their able bodies and be jealous or angry; instead, I should see someone who needs Christ just as much as I do. The cross is an equalizer in that there is no room for superiority or inferiority in the Body - we are all disabled in soul before the Lord.

Something else that I'm tempted to do is to claim that I have nothing to contribute to the Body or that I'm worthless to serve because I can't hear everything. But when I do that, I buy into the lie that hearing loss defines me instead of embracing the truth that the gospel does. It's true that I can't hear everything and that there will just be some areas where I cannot serve. For example, you'll never see me help lead worship and I'd be reluctant to work at the information desk. I see so many people with disabilities just not contribute because they focus so much on what they can't do, or maybe they're missing all the things they used to be able to do and now suddenly can't. And at the heart of it is a pride issue; we want to do what we want to do and are angry that our efforts are hampered. Isn't God faithful, though? He doesn't let us slip through the cracks and He certainly doesn't put us out of commission just because our ears or legs or eyes stop working. To say that we have nothing to offer because of our disability is like saying that disability has more power than God, that the Almighty could somehow be crippled by our weakness. Puh-leez.

Having a disability does not excuse us from coming alongside of our brothers and sisters, to weep when they weep, to rejoice when they rejoice. My hearing loss does not let me off the hook to make meals when a family welcomes a new baby, help coordinate childcare, hand out worship guides, pitch in with cleanup, be kind to people, love them as Jesus does and offer a listening heart. It's true that I can't do everything, but I can trust that the Lord will equip me to do the things that He has called me to do - for my good and His glory. And so often, we expect that God has a special job just for us and that disability has somehow thwarted that plan, but that's presumptuous. God is, I think, less concerned with exactly what it is we are doing and far more concerned with how we are doing it. There are no loopholes in Micah 6:8 - abled or disabled, the decree is the same:

He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

Finally, those of us with disability need to remember that these are just temporary bodies. C.S. Lewis said, "You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body." Bodies with crooked spines and lifeless legs and silent eyes and damaged ears - they're just for now. Disability advocacy and raising awareness is a good thing, but it's not the most important thing. When we make disability the standard by which we live, we've missed the point. When we judge other people or churches based on whether or not they meet our needs, we're sinning. At the end of the day, the question is not, "Did the church serve my disability?" but, "Is Jesus my only hope?" Am I finding joy and fulfillment and completeness in the finished work of Christ and embracing the truth that His blood has already spoken for me, or am I basing who I am and what I think and how I act on how my body functions or doesn't function?

God is enough. And that's all I really wanted to say.

Answer and a question

Okay, back to regularly scheduled programming. A while ago, I posed a question to the big, vast internets:

If you could sit down with a deaf or hard of hearing person and ask any question without worrying about if it was offensive or silly, what would you ask?

Joey had two questions. I answered one last week about remembering what it was like to hear and now I'm on to the second part:

"Would you consider an implant or stem cell therapy to improve your hearing?"

The short version? Yes on the implant, probably not on the stem cell. I don't want my blog to get crazy political. I don't mind touching on politics once in a while, but for the most part, I'd like to steer clear of hot button topics. So I'll just say that for personal and political reasons, I'm not sure I would feel comfortable with stem cell therapy.

I have thought about getting a cochlear implant and I'm open to it if or when my hearing reaches the point where hearing aids are no longer helpful. But right now, honestly, I'm intimidated. And chicken. There, I said it. It's an invasive procedure that involves drilling into my head (I'm fighting off a little bit of vomit as I type that!), and could take several years of rehabilitation to get the full use out of it.

I also am doing well with my hearing aids. I wear two digital BTEs (behind the ear) that have four or five different settings to help me better filter background noise and help me hear what I want to hear. Why mess with what works, you know? And on that note, I've worn hearing aids almost my whole life. I could also just be feeling a little nervous about making such a big change. I know my hearing aids; how to care for them, when it's time for new ear molds, what kind of batteries to buy. I know I would learn those kinds of things too with a cochlear implant, but for now, I'm just attached to my hearing aids. They're familiar.

Having said that, I have friends who have cochlear implants and I've never once heard any one of them complain about it. My qualms about getting an implant stem more from my fears of the surgery than of the results. I have no doubt that a cochlear implant would help me and that the benefits far outweigh the initial inconvenience. Also, I'm not under any illusions. I took a hearing test a couple of years ago (and the one before that was 10 years ago!) that indicated I had lost 10 percent of my hearing in the last 10 years. We're not sure how progressive the hearing loss is, but I foresee entering my twilight years beyond the help of hearing aids - if my hearing can make it that long. I'm okay with the idea of a cochlear implant... someday. Not so much today. ;)

Okay, big, vast internets, your turn. Like I said a few weeks ago, one of the reasons I blog is to educate people about hearing loss, but sometimes I overlook things that seem obvious to me because I'm so used to it. So I'm curious, if you could ask a deaf or hard of hearing person anything, what would it be?

And by the way, I recently discovered how to find the stats for my blog and here is what I've learned:

This week, I've had 211 visitors from the United States, three from Spain and one from Finland. I've had 776 page views in the last month. Readers find my blog via other blogs, Google, The City, Twitter and Facebook.

I don't say any of that to brag, but rather to let you people know I am on to you.



Won't you come out and say hi?

Memories

A few days ago, I wondered what you were wondering. What would you ask someone about hearing loss if you didn't have to worry about sounding silly or being offensive (I find those are the biggest reasons people don't ask questions)? I'm toying with the idea of starting a regular feature... let's call it What Would You Ask Wednesdays just for fun. It's lame, I know. Go with it.

Joey had two questions, so I figured I'd answer one today and one next week.

First up is, "Do you remember being able to hear?"

Kind of. I vaguely remember watching TV without the captions on. I remember one time my grandma called our house and sang me a song over the phone. I don't remember the words, but I remember hearing and understanding her through the phone.

Aside from those two memories, all I've ever known is being hard of hearing. I remember being fitted for a hearing aid for the first time, but I don't recall actually losing my hearing. It just was what it was. In my short life, I had no idea what "normal" was, so as far as I knew, this was normal for me. I did what my parents and the doctors and the audiologists told me to do. I figured they had everything under control because I was four and they were like, THIRTY (which, of course, is like 90 to a toddler!), so I was confident that everyone was taking good care of the situation.

When I was a little older, maybe seven or so, I started dreaming of the day when I wouldn't have to wear hearing aids. I was pretty sure it would happen by the time I was 14. Kind of a random number, but it must have held some kind of significance in my little girl mind! ;) Even then, I could tell I was "different," and I didn't like it. Honestly, some days are still like that, but now they're mixed with more days where I'm okay with it.

Hope that answers your question, Joey! Thanks for asking!

Anything you want to know?

Our flag was still there

It was a Tuesday morning and I didn't have any classes but I still had homework to do. So I got out of bed around 9 and made my way to the bathroom. When I was done, I opened the door to hear my youngest brother, who was 7 at the time, yelling at me, "Two towers fell down and George Bush has to save the people!" Still groggy with sleep, I mumbled, "Huhwhatareyatalkinbout?"

I went downstairs to see my mom frozen on the couch, watching TV. I sat down next to her and tried to make sense of what Peter Jennings was saying. Planes... World Trade Center... Flight 93... the Pentagon. I had walked into the middle of something horrific and didn't know which end was up. It was several long minutes before I was able to put it all together. I barely left the living room all day. Images kept rolling across the screen. Ash, dust, debris, death. The airports were closed. The malls were closed. Home, which was always the safest place, suddenly felt vulnerable.

The remember feeling in a daze over the next few weeks and months. I remember feeling fiercely patriotic and yes, I'm going to go there, I was proud of our president in the aftermath. I was proud of us. But I was on edge everywhere I went. I was scared of those who bore a resemblance to the terrorists. I confess that sometimes I still am. But I think I've grown numb. I think we all have and that is a dangerous thing to be.

It's been nine years now - not even a whole decade - and we don't talk about it as much. Have we just adjusted that well? Have we forgotten already? Do we just not want to think about it? This is trivial, I know, but I read only one comic strip that paid tribute to that fateful day. This is what I do for a living, by the way. I prepare comics pages for newspapers around the country. I have 22 newspaper clients and not every paper runs the same strips. Twenty two clients means a few hundred different comic strips. Maybe not quite that many, since there is some overlap, but still. A LOT. Most of them go out of their way to spend a week acknowledging Veterans' Day, use their strip as a platform to remind people to vote, or build their whole series around politics. But only one strip thought to remember the day we were attacked, to pay homage to what we have gone through as a country.

We need to think about it. We need to remember what it was like that day, the horror and the agony and the fear. Someone declared war on us and we've been fighting ever since. But it seems the fire has gone out of the fight - which I fear will make us sitting ducks. I'm no politician. You can probably guess which party I vote with, but I'm not terribly well-versed in international affairs (or even a lot of domestic ones. ahem. I'll work on it). But I doubt that the extremists are finished and by forgetting their work, we're giving them the upper hand.

Furthermore, we do our soldiers, our firefighters and police officers, our fellow patriots and ourselves a disservice when we choose to stop talking about what happened nine years ago. Many left their wives, husbands, children and friends behind. Many ran into burning buildings or into the Iraqi desert and came back broken. Many never came back at all. Many sat at home and watched it all go down, wondering how to pick up the pieces. We all changed. We mark time by it now. We talk about what life was like before the planes crashed into the towers. What life is like after. Let's stop pretending we can sweep this under the rug or bury the skeletons in a closet.

Francis Scott Key was reflecting on a literal battle scene when he wrote these lines, but the words ring true for us today: "And the rocket's red glare/the bombs bursting in the air/gave proof through the night/that our flag was still there." Our very own anthem was penned during war. Our nation was born out of a struggle. We do poorly to forget the hard times, because it's when things are hard that we remember who we are and what we're capable of. As the planes burst into flames and the towers crumbled, as the Pentagon was plowed and a field in Pennsylvania turned into a graveyard, we remembered we were Americans and we fought back, not just in the desert, but by pulling out bodies, offering drinks of water and standing strong together.

I imagine there were a lot of tears on Flight 93, as the passengers considered in their last moments the people they were leaving behind, but the tears didn't keep them from doing what they had to do. They didn't think about the politics involved, or whether they had voted for the current occupant of the White House or not. They saw an evil at hand and gave up their lives to stop it. They left a legacy of courage and action and we would do well to remember them.

America... let's roll!

What would you ask?

The biggest reason I blog is to educate. As I've illustrated several times by now, I am not great at taking opportunities to educate people on how to communicate with the deaf and hard of hearing. So blogging is a way to, I don't know, make up for it, I guess. I feel like I can explain things more clearly once I've considered the situation. I figure even if the person who needed the educating has long moved on, it was still a learning experience. And I end up educating myself in the process, too, as I figure out what I could have done better in a particular situation or even why I needed this accommodation or that one.

But even then, some things seem so obvious to me that I don't think they are worth mentioning. I wonder how many things are going untold to others because I assume they know about it. Or how many things about my own hearing loss I am overlooking because I just don't think about it. So... what would you want to know? If you could sit down with a deaf or hard of hearing person and ask any question without worrying about if it was offensive or silly, what would you ask?

Illusion

“The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.” - George Bernard Shaw

I have been chewing on this quote lately. On one hand, it hits me in the hearing aids. Even I am not always aware that I did not catch something. Someone will say something and I'll think that I understood them perfectly, so I don't ask for clarification. Then somewhere down the line, I discover that what I heard was not what was said. Sometimes it's funny. Sometimes awkward. I think it makes people feel like I wasn't listening to them in the first place and I feel bad that happens (Yah, I confess there are times I'm not listening, or I'm zoning in and out of the conversation. We all do that. I'm talking about the times where I really was listening but somehow misinterpreted something but didn't think I had. Or maybe didn't realize I was not getting all of the information).

On the other hand, the quote hits me in the heart, too. I think so often people think that as long as we acknowledge each other with a "hello, how are you" or we follow people on Twitter, that we're communicating and engaging in community. And don't get me wrong, those things are helpful. "Hello" can eventually lead to conversation and Twitter, Facebook and blogging are great portals to connection. But we tend to treat them as replacements for face-to-face, heart-to-heart interactions. I am guilty of this. I don't reach out as much as I should. I'm intimidated by parties and large groups... even small groups require me to give myself a pep talk before heading out! ;) So I'm most comfortable and most myself in one-on-one settings or itty-bitty gatherings. I get the feeling, though, that it's the opposite for most people. It's hard to find someone who's willing to scale back and community with me (oh yes I did just use the word community as a verb. Jon Acuff would be proud).

I'm fully aware, though, that the road goes both ways. Parties and groups aren't impossible for me. I act like they are, but they're not. My new-ish digital hearing aids (I've had them for two years) do a much better job of filtering out background noise than I give them credit for. My lipreading skills are solid. Communication is not impossible in more crowded settings, so I'm wrong to completely avoid those things myself. I'm sad that people seem intimidated by me, or rather, intimidated by the idea of talking to me, but on a lighter note, in the spirit of the road going both ways, I'm the same way. I'm just like that with the young moms! ;)

Don't get me wrong, I'm not scared of them. I know they're people, too. I love kids. I love their kids. But I find myself tongue-tied. It's like I think that if I don't have children myself, then we have absolutely nothing to talk about. As if the only thing these ladies know is child-rearing and nothing else. As if I have nothing to offer them because I'm not even married. Psh. I know in my head that's false, but I struggle to get over it. I'm silly. So tell me, friends, what should a single, not-even-dating girl talk to a married mom about? That's my awkward honest moment of the day. Enjoy. ;)

I want to stop buying into the illusion that communication and community have taken place. I want to feel free to say, "What did you say?" I want to be comfortable reaching out. I want to do those things even when it's not comfortable. I want to give and be poured out. Like Jesus was.

I want to be all used up when I die. - George Bernard Shaw

Nostalgia

Random fact of the day: I think it might be time to retire the random facts of the day. I know that blogs by nature can be narcissistic and I'm pondering ways to make this one at least a little bit less so. And anyway, my random facts of the day are usually just regurgitated Facebook statuses, so maybe I should keep my narcissism in one place. ;)

Hearing aids: You know what's ironic? I actually don't always know how to communicate with other hard of hearing people. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? You'd think I'd know best how to do that, since I spend so much time thinking of all the ways everyone else needs to learn how to communicate with me! I think it's because I don't really know that many hard of hearing people. I'm just now starting to meet more. I've spent my life around hearing people, so I've gotten used to communicating like they do - talking to them when their back is turned, yelling to catch someone's attention, etc. I have to readjust my mindset when I'm with someone who has the same communication needs I do (like not talking to their backs, tapping them on the shoulder to catch their attention, etc). Crazy, yeah, but it helps me see things from the hearing person's perspective and how they might feel trying to communicate with me.

In other news: I'm having one of those weeks where I wish I still lived on the MO side. I have been out there almost every night this week. I like that my world is bigger, that I'm not limited to Johnson County or Merriam or Mission or Overland Park. I'm glad that my world is comprised of all of those plus downtown and Midtown (why do we capitalize Midtown but not downtown?) and Raytown and Lee's Summit and Independence and Waldo and Brookside (why do we refer to Waldo and Brookside like they are cities rather than neighborhoods?) and Ward Parkway (why do we refer to this like a city and not just a street?). I'm glad for all of this. I'm thankful to feel at home no matter what the city limits are. My heart is all over the city, with different memories and people and moments and experiences tying me there.

On one of my MO nights, I was driving to my grandma's house and it was almost literally a trip down memory lane. Road construction forced me to find another path than the one I originally intended and I'm so glad for the wandering. As I drove, I remembered things like: I broke my wrist on that playground. Remember when we did set construction for Taming of the Shrew in that vacant storefront? I learned to drive in that parking lot and now it's a Wal-Mart. Church used to be over there. I used to babysit at that house. Grandpa used to take us to that park.

We didn't have a house on that side of the city - we lived 25 minutes away. I didn't learn to ride a bike on those streets. I didn't sled down their hills or catch their lightning bugs... but I grew up over there just the same.

Deodorant. Use it. Love it. Embrace it.

Random fact of the day: The ONE day I end up sitting in the same pew with a gaggle of fine young men WILL be the same day I forget to put deodorant on. Reason #284 that I am single, folks.

Hearing aids: Balance. I am pondering and pondering how to achieve this. I do not want to be one of those people who loudly "demands" this service or "deserves" assistance. People, the world is full of souls who are hurting and need help in so many different ways. What makes me any better than them and how highly do I have to think of myself to expect everyone to fall all over themselves to give me a hand when they have their own things to deal with? So no, I don't want to be one of the voices clamoring for attention - I'd rather be one of the hands offering compassion to a hurting world, because I hurt right along with them.

So with that in mind, where's the balance between being honest and admitting when I need help with something and not speaking up because to do so would just be one more thing on a very busy person's to-do list? What do I do in a crowded situation? Do I ask for help? How should I feel if the answer is, "No, I'm sorry, we can't do that right now."? Do I take one for the team and get what I can out of it with limited resources? How do I bear that well?

I'm just one person. Who am I to ask the world to stop and give me a hand? At the end of the day, does it really matter whether I heard every single word of the conversation or just 60% of it? On the other hand, while I'm keeping my needs to myself in order to make everyone else comfortable, I am wondering, "Don't I matter, too?" It's an angry question and a poignant one. Sometimes, I grumble and scream, "What about ME?! When is it MY turn?! Why doesn't anyone ever think of ME?!" Other times, and this is the one I have a hard time explaining to people, I truly am wondering - do I matter enough for people to make adjustments for me? Unless you've lived in my shoes, it's difficult to express how all the itty bitty slights I experience throughout the day or week - people getting frustrated when I ask them to repeat something, forgetting to include me in the conversation or just flat out ignoring me to accommodate their own comfort zone - all adds up to, "You don't really matter. You're not worthy of my time." So once in a while, I do ask, "Do I matter, too? Am I enough a part of this friendship/church/conversation/group that you're willing to put your comfort aside long enough to help me feel like I belong?"

So where's the line? Where's the balance between needing to feel included and needing to put myself aside for the sake of the people around me? Oy. Community is a tricksy, tricksy thing!

In other news: Must. Get. Passport. I've got the travel bug. And I need a traveling companion(s)! Inquire within! I haven't seen much outside the Midwest. Never been to California, the Pacific Northwest or the deep South (Nawlins, anyone?!). Never been out of the country, either, but I'm currently sans passport. So I'm determined to at least see as much of the U.S. as I can this year, vacation days permitting, of course. So far I'm booked for Columbus, OH this spring and maybe Vegas this fall. I'm dreaming about San Fransisco, New Orleans, Seattle and Chicago. We shall see.

Never thought I'd say this, but I'm getting tired of TV. Yep, you heard it here first! Lost excluded, of course.

Peace out, boy scout!

Community + Chocolate = WIN

Random fact of the day: I've decided I really like the name Molly. My friend Molly cut my hair this week and it looks fabulous. I adore Molly Piper's blog. And let's be honest, Molly could totally take Kirsten in an American Girl showdown.

Hearing Aids: So I had this dream the other night (get used to me starting sentences like this. I do love me some whacked-out dreams) that I had a baby and she was crying and somehow, I knew that, but I was panicking because I couldn't find the baby monitor to tell me whether or not she was crying. (Okay, if I KNOW the baby's crying, why do I need the monitor? I don't understand my dreams, I just tell it like it happens) Anyway, I find the monitor and it blinks red when the baby cries. And I'm looking at it and all I can think is, "This is brilliant!! Someone should make a whole line of appliances JUST for hard of hearing people JUST so they can make sure they did, in fact, hear what they thought they heard." RANDOM.

For the record, there are a lot of things out there to help alert people with hearing loss. For example, I have a vibrating alarm clock. It's not very big and it has a clip on one end meant to be clipped to my pillow. I just throw it in my pillowcase and it usually shakes me awake in the morning. Except the last week or so, I keep sleeping through it. Might be time to change the batteries... or I've just been far more tired than I realized! ;)

In other news: I'm thinking about making some cupcakes and taking them to my neighbor across the hall. I've lived here five months and have yet to learn her name, even though I've had plenty of opportunities to do so.

I've been thinking a little bit more about community and I've decided I need to be more intentional where I live. I live in a suburb and my church is in the urban core. They're all about being intentional and really have a heart for the city. But I don't live in the city, I live just outside of it. I used to live there, though (not the urban core, but not far from it, either), so it would be easy for me to do my living there. Like today, I had a bunch of clothes to donate to Goodwill and I wanted to take them to the one in my old neighborhood because it benefits a mission I like to support. But there's also a Salvation Army Family Store in my itty bitty suburb, and I ended up taking my clothes there instead. Because that's where I live. That's where my neighbors shop, where they get clothes for their kids and dishes for their kitchen. I want to help them out, because that's what good neighbors do.

I hope that "community" isn't limited to my address and I imagine my life is made up of a lot of different communities. But I also think that we are called to love Jesus and love others where we are. I've been feeling guilty because I feel like I don't do enough. It's clear to me that the urban core of my metro area is hurting. They need Jesus. I have friends who work with them, I know the stories and the pain. I scratched the surface of it when I was involved in the deaf youth group. I know it's bad. And I feel guilty that I don't do more.

But the kicker is just that - I feel guilty, not convicted. I heard someone say once that Satan makes you feel guilty, but the Spirit convicts you. And if I'm not feeling that conviction, then I need to trust that I'm not being disobedient and don't have a reason to feel guilty for "not doing more."

What I do feel convicted about is not doing anything in my very own zip code. I mope around and wonder how to not waste this life. I worry about hitting 30 and having nothing to show for it. I spend my nights alone catching up on Lost or trolling the internet. Meanwhile, I have neighbors I could be meeting or community activities I could be involved in.

So that's why I will make cupcakes. Anything with chocolate in it is a good first step, right? ;)