A Lot Can Change in 5 Years

              5 years ago today I was in a very different place. I had 5 semesters of college ahead of me, was living in Canada, had blonde hair, and felt like I had “my whole life ahead of me”. Most impactful, however, was that 5 years ago today, my world was forever changed—an appointment at a ENT confirmed my parents suspicions and slapped the denial out of my head—in the muffled sound I had grown accustomed to, I was told I had genetic bilateral hearing loss.

                Five years ago today I was scared, lonely, blurry-eyed, and terrified of the life ahead of me. I was terrified of becoming a burden, an invalid, a pitied member of society. I blubbered my way through a blood test where the friendly technician attempted to ease my apparent fear of needles when really I was just trying to grasp the reality of the last half hour.

                Five years ago today—I sat on Alki beach with my Bible, journal, and a pen in hand. I made a choice. I made a choice to have hope in loss, to choose life. I chose to continue to walk and to see this as an opportunity, not a sentence. Through the tears I wrote a prayer—a prayer for hope, for clarity, for security, and a plea for healing.  I didn’t want to have hearing loss, to have to get hearing aids, to have my life rocked when it seemed like things were falling into place. No, I liked my normal life and the plans I had, thank you very much, so if we could just rewind and get back to that, that would be great, thanks God. I finally closed my journal, stared out at the Puget Sound that reminded me of my nature, my size, the lack of control I have, I stood up, and began to walk quite feebly into a future I didn’t want but I knew I had to embrace—whatever that was supposed to look like.

                Boy, what a difference 5 years can make!

                Today, I am back in Seattle, I graduated university, I am planning on a Master’s program next fall, I have brown hair and bangs, and I just had my world changed again—by living in Kenya for 3 months. Today I know that I do have “my whole life ahead of me” and its not as scary as I thought it would be 5 years ago. I know that my hearing loss doesn’t define me, it shapes me. It has shaped me into a person who is more humble, compassionate, and understanding—asking for help is a hard fight—and this is all by God’s grace.

                Today I sit at home, still with my journal, Bible, and pen. Today I still choose to have hope in this loss, and I am thankful for the clarity that the past 5 years have brought in, and hopefully through me. Today I am thankful for my aids, and so thankful that I haven’t been healed yet—because I know it is still teaching me. Today I have a new normal, and good plans, and I’m so thankful for the future God chose for me—one that includes hearing loss.

                Today, I celebrate, rather than despair. I celebrate where I’ve been and where I’m going. I know that the next five years will continue to be ones of change, more events that rock my world, but I can look forward in hope as I look back and remember. 5 years makes a difference—and that’s a really blessed thing.