Hey, I'm Jacquelyn, and I'm partially deaf.

Memories, audiologist reports, and Isaiah

It’s my annual doctor’s appointment where I try to hold it together without bursting into tears. No, it’s not a life-threatening diagnosis, but it is a way-of-life-as-I-know-it diagnosis. Memories flood my brain as I try to focus on the beeps and words amidst the static. It’s just a routine audiology appointment (well, routine for someone with significant hearing loss), and I sit in the booth listening to beeps, words, and lots of static. I’m not really sure why I cry every time I enter this room, but I do. I don’t think I feel anxious, but I feel a type of grief as I sit with the weight of what this appointment means for me.

Memories of the ENT appointment as a child where they removed the tubes (ouch!) and noticed lots of scar tissue - Goodbye ear infections; Hello permanent hearing loss

Memories of being checked out of school feeling “cool” that I was “different” and needed biannual hearing tests

Memories of seeing the words “hearing aids fitting?” on my chart at my ENT appointment, when I only thought I was going for a routine checkup - I was only 23, surely I don’t need hearing aids?

Memories of the dizziness, tinnitus, and migraines as I underwent multiple tests as a young adult to diagnose me with a second cause of ongoing hearing loss - Meniere’s Disease. Low sodium diet, here I come! Sorry to my soon-to-be husband for eating bland food the rest of our days.

Memories of audiology tests where I know I’ll be asked to repeat words and phrases, and I will repeat them incorrectly, because the static masks my understanding, and I feel dumb

Memories of struggling through the pandemic, not because I succumbed to COVID, but because the stupid masks made it impossible for me to read anyone’s lips; thus I could hear literally nothing. I gathered meeting notes from coworkers because I never knew what was going on.

Memories of the anxiety of being in group conversations and people thinking I’m too shy, have nothing intelligent to contribute to the conversation, or am just rude…but in reality I just smile and nod because my ears can’t keep up - and I know people are tired of me asking them to repeat themselves 5 times, so I just tune out. I hear noise. I know you’re talking; it’s just not intelligible to me. It’s too fast, I’m lost, I give up. Good thing I’m introverted anyways.

Memories of bawling like a baby in the audiologist’s office the first time she spoke to me after my new hearing aids were inserted. I sat there for a while and cried because every sound was so clear. Why did I wait so long to get these things??

Memories of teaching summer school for 2 summers so I could afford these costly gadgets

Memories of even the hearing aids not solving all of my hearing woes. They’re helpful, but they’re not magic. Even with them in, I can’t hear every word above the background noise of large rooms, technology, and a room full of kids (as a kindergarten teacher…) Kind of a let down, but still immensely grateful for the ways they do help

Memories of my husband elbowing me in the night because the baby is crying and I can’t hear the baby monitor when my hearing aids are out

Memories of loved ones and friends giving up telling me something because they’ve repeated it 3-5 times, and I’m still not clear. They’re frustrated, and so am I.

Memories of driving to the drive-thru window without ordering at the kiosk because I never heard them say anything; and then having to explain to them why I didn’t order yet, and now their queue is out of order

Memories of my coworkers realizing I was wearing hearing aids, and she said, “Oh now that finally makes sense.” She thought I was just rude.

Maybe my most sensitive memory of my love for and gift of music never being the same. I love to sing, write music, and play the piano, and that is all but lost for me now. My ears never find the right note for me to participate in what was once my absolute favorite thing to do. The notes fluctuate in and out and I cannot make out where my voice is supposed to be.

And my latest memory, which saddened me at first, of my two older girls at different points throughout this journey telling me they wish their mom could hear. I knew I was frustrated with this reality, but realizing they wished I didn’t wear hearing aids and that they didn’t have to repeat themselves multiple times for me to finally understand what they’re saying even with the hearing aids in - that stung.

(One good memory - they have come in handy for me to “tune out” the Roll Tide Alabama cheers that come from my daughters when they try to tease me about being an LSU fan - taking them out to tune out in a joking manner - that’s been fun!)

And so today at my appointment, when she told me I’ve gone down 10 decibels in my “good ear,” my first thought was, “At what age will I be completely deaf?” It’s a possibility, and I’m already grieving it. No, it doesn’t consume my thoughts, and I don’t live every day depressed that this is my reality at age 37, but it stings to consider the reality that there may be a day when I can’t hear my husband, my children (ok maybe turning down the bickering and tattling would be to my benefit :-) ) , my family, maybe grandchildren, music, preaching, friends, conversations, birds, thunderstorms, anything at all. So, today, right now, I need to listen, truly listen, and hear all that can be heard, and feel the blessings in it today, because one day, I may not be able to.

Almost immediately as I was having my annual mini pity party before snapping back to reality, the Lord reminded me of one of my all-time favorite passages: Isaiah 55:6-10. Weird.

Lord, this passage does not relate to hearing loss. It’s about seeking You while you may still be found, forsaking unrighteousness, turning back to you. That kind of stuff. Great stuff, but nothing to do with these ears you’ve given me.

But then I reread it and heard what He wanted me to hear. How precious that no matter how far gone my physical ears actually do get, my spiritual ears will never dull. Right? Or will they?

Just like there may be a day when my ears hear nothing and the physical world is silent to me, there is coming a day - a very real day at a time we do not know - when people will no longer have a gracious opportunity to seek the Lord. That time will be no more.

It will be too late for those who never trusted in Jesus. Every knee will bow, but for many, not voluntarily.

And for those who trusted in Him but lived lukewarm, comfortable lives, it will be too late to go deeper with Jesus while on earth. We will mourn what could have been if we had surrendered absolutely everything for the worship of Jesus and the spreading of the Gospel message to this who are perishing. We will mourn the Gospel opportunities we did not take, as we feel the weight of those perishing eternally without Christ - our loved ones, coworkers, and people all around the globe.

Why not feel that weight now instead of when it’s too late? Why not feel that weight while the Lord may still be found? I don’t want to let my spiritual senses go dull where the Word of the Lord is faint because I’m either not pursing Him or just not listening anymore because the noise of my sinfulness, distractions, busyness, comfort, etc. has become louder.

Read, meditate, and pray through Isaiah 55:6-10.

Let us seek the Lord NOW, while He may be found. Let's not waste another minute with shallow excuses. We aren't too busy. We may be too distracted, unfocused, or nonchalant about our relationship with the Lord, BUT His mercies are new, He is still drawing us to Himself, and we have the opportunity right now to seek Him and call on Him while He may be found!

6 Seek the Lord while he may be found;
call on him while he is near.
7 Let the wicked forsake their ways
and the unrighteous their thoughts.
Let them turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy on them,
and to our God, for he will freely pardon.

8 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

10 As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

11 so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

12 You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.

I’d love to hear from you!

• Is there something in your own life - like my hearing loss - that may grieve you, one that shapes a part of your identity? What has the Lord taught you through it?

• Where do you feel like your spiritual senses may have dulled?

• What is the Lord calling you to do TODAY so that you seek Him with a fresh fire while He may still be found?

• In what areas of your life do you long to be “led forth in peace” as Isaiah celebrates in verse 12?

Always, Jacquelyn