Eight years out—a letter to my younger self on that day of diagnosis

Terrified, in shock, unbelieving-not me, disabled? At 2o?!  who will love me now? How can I finish college? What will my life look like now?
Four  small words forever changed my life—“you have hearing loss”.

Twenty-year-old-self—I know you can’t see past this now. It seems to mar your life, to irrevocably screw up your plans, your dreams.  It seems to shatter every truth you knew about who you are and what you’re capable of. Later that afternoon, as you sit on the beach, pen in hand, pages rippling in the forceful wind—you will make a pivotal choice—to turn to, not away from Jesus in this day of pain and fear. You chose not to get bitter, cynical, or self-pittying—and by His grace you live that out. Sure, you have moments of agony and deep fear—but your roots are strong—to him be the glory.

Eight years from now you will be thankful for this day—you won’t wish it away, dread waking up and putting your aids in, live in constant fear of losing the rest of your hearing or not having batteries for your aids. You wont hide your aids under your hair—you’ll again experience the freedom of wearing your hair up—exposing those ears. Eight years out you will be so grateful for loss—for you have gained so much of worth that surpasses your physical hearing. You’ll smile and think of how this was made for you—chosen in love to strengthen, to EQUIP—not hinder, the life you live. Your eyes will glimmer as your mind fills with pictures of how this loss is gain—from relating to a scared parent with a fresh Autism diagnosis, to the way your niece gently pulls back your hair and in awe and joy exclaims “you got my ears too!” You'll mentally change "Amazing Grace" to "I once was deaf, but now I hear" understanding why John Newton (a man who went blind) would write those original lyrics because of how physical loss can strengthen the Spirit. 


Eight years from now you will read scriptures like “Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him” (Psalm 126) and your heart will leap with joy—fulfilling this verse and know it’s true. Eight years from now, today will still bring back a flood of sadness but a bittersweet gratitude—for now you have those sheaves. The harvest of suffering reminds you pain in this life is birth pains. Trembling 20-year-old-self—this diagnosis you think is ending your life—is actually the greatest beginning.