A Christmas Present

When we first moved to Pasadena in the Summer of 2006, my wife had just been diagnosed with arthritis in her left hip. At the time, we thought it was bothersome but not serious. We could not have been more naive. Joanie found a job teaching music at a private Christian school across LA and commuted for the next two years. By the time her first full-time semester was completed, her hip had become acute. She finally got a doctor's appointment in January and saw a specialist by February. The diagnosis? She needed a hip replacement. It was quite shocking. The other news was equally shocking. Her other hip (which did not hurt) had arthritis and would need to be replaced in a few years.
So, for the last three and a half years, Joanie has struggled through a hip replacement, physical therapy, one leg longer than the other, an emergency appendectomy, and the slow deterioration of her "good" hip. Finally, on Tuesday (December 22) Joanie entered the hospital and had a second hip replacement. Our insurance with the school is going to run out soon (since I have finished writing the dissertation and am no longer a full time student) so we needed to get it done soon. Tonight (Christmas Eve) I wheeled her out of the hospital and into a car only 48 hours after having a new hip implanted. As I write this, she is resting comfortably on a day bed in our living room. She is my Christmas present.
I am amazed at how modern medicine makes possible the impossible. If Joanie had been born at the same time as her mother or grandmother, she would be spending her later years as an invalid, as did my grandfather. Instead of being confined to a bed, she is resting in one and plans to resume her 20 minute walking regime in a month or so. But I am most grateful to God who is the great healer of our whole being - our minds, bodies, and souls. Thanks, Lord, for a great Christmas present. First your son, Jesus in a manger. Now my wife, Joanie, at home in our apartment. It is a good Christmas.

Two Ears and One Mouth

I've been thinking about my friend, Patty, today. I talked with her this afternoon and she shared with me her concerns and issues. They are serious and challenging - nothing made up or fluff, just real issues about body, soul, and mind. I wish there was something that I could do to change the circumstances (typical male thinking, I grant you). I want to help or heal or create a significant change in the circumstances that surround her. But, I am hours away and, even if I were minutes away, there is nothing in my own power that I can do to change her situation. Sound familiar? Anyone who cares about another person who is going through a difficult time knows what I mean (and that's most if not all of us). Amazingly, Patty said something that reminded me that there is something that I can do. Toward the end of the conversation as I was lamenting my lack of power over her situation, Patty said, "That's all right. Just talking with you has made a difference."
I continually forget that compassion comes not just in giving a prescription for healing but in the idea of being sympathetic or empathetic. Not all healing comes from pills or surgeries or psychiatric insights or money. Some healing comes just from listening. Compassion is listening with your ears, mind, and heart. Sympathy is more than feeling sorry for another. It is putting yourself in that persons shoes and feeling their pain and dilemma (actually, that's probably more like empathy - though that usually means you have experienced the same thing and know if from the inside out rather than the outside in). Compassion is an ear more than a mouth. Compassion is not telling someone how you feel but is listening and coming to realize what the other person really feels.
The old adage is still true. God gave us two ears and one mouth. Maybe we should get the hint! Well, you have ears to hear. You will be amazed at how many hurting people are looking for someone who will listen (really listen) to them and you will be further amazed at how much healing come come through your ears and not your mouth.