As I sat in the ear doctor’s office last week, waiting to be seen, I was mesmerized by the pencil drawing of the inner ear on the wall. The detail was incredible.
Wow, Barb, you should get out more.
No, seriously, we’ve all seen anatomical posters of the body in the doctor’s office, skeletons at Halloween, and our own reflection in the mirror.
Slow down, girl, where ya’ going here? How’d we get from the inner ear to buck naked?
Stick with me, there’s a train of thought worth pursuing. Since my acoustic neuroma back in 2011 and subsequent brain surgery, I’ve spent extra time in the ENT office, and I’ve seen a lot of ear art, which is captivating, believe it or not.
The design of the ear, inside and out, is brilliant. (Thank you, Lord) Before the surgery, I was told I’d have less than a 5% chance of hearing in my left ear. I got zero. Having only one functional ear is a bit more complicated than I expected.
I would reassure myself before the brain surgery, saying, “It’s going to be fine, I have a spare.” (smile, wink, don’t feel sorry for me, it’s all good)
What I had was no idea what life was like, function-wise, with one less functioning sense.
I’ve since met several people who are also single-hearing, and we share the same challenges, including saying, “What?” frequently.
We also can’t pinpoint the source of the sound. I’ll be walking through the courtyard after Mass, and someone calls my name, and I spin around like a top, trying to figure out where to look. Despite this, I’m grateful that I can still hear.
We were given two ears. I’ve heard it said that it’s so we can listen more than we speak, which is good advice. Having an ear on both sides is beneficial for balance, for processing visual information in the brain, and for hearing optimally. It’s almost as if an omnipotent Being had a purpose in designing us that way.
So, back to the ear drawing: every tiny, funky-shaped organ, working in unison, serves a specific purpose that produces sound. I can say with all conviction that this was not a random act of evolution but rather the result of intelligent design. Ask anyone who has hearing challenges, tinnitus, vertigo, or partial deafness—every little properly functioning mechanism matters.
I’d like to state the obvious here: God designed every aspect of our body for a purpose.
“The body, in fact, and only the body, is capable of making visible what is invisible: the spiritual and the divine. It has been created to transfer into the visible reality of the world, the mystery hidden from eternity in God, and thus to be a sign of it”
TOB 19:4
A baby’s first cry. A loved one’s final breath. Birdsong and seascape. Laughter and screams. All are heard first and instantly recorded in our fascinating gray matter for instant recall. What would our ears possibly make visible? Perhaps that God listens and is attentive to us. He is not deaf to His children. The sounds of His beautiful creation point to Him and listening to His word brings balance in our lives. Hearing His word and taking it into our hearts and minds means we can recall it and apply it in our lives.
Have you ever asked yourself, what is the purpose of my body? I know I have. It’s funny, I can be forgetful at times about thanking and praising God when everything is functioning properly and quick to complain when something is out of whack.
I’ve been studying Theology of the Body, by St. John Paul II, for decades, and it has transformed not only our marriage but every aspect of my humanity. It’s enthralling, relevant, and revolutionary in our understanding of the significance and purpose of our body.
I’d like to probe this topic over the coming weeks through a series of reflections called “Body Talk.” How does our visible body make “visible what is invisible: the spiritual and the divine?” I encourage you to share your thoughts in the comments throughout the series. We all have something valuable to give and receive; it’s part of humanity’s genius.
Along this line, I wanted to share with you that Mark and I have been asked to be the honorary chairmen for the upcoming Witness to Hope Celebration here in Tempe on March 14th. This annual event, hosted by the JPII Center, is open to all, and there is an early bird ticket price- please take advantage and plan on attending. Then you too can begin your own journey of discovery.
Yes, tinnitus is my reality, which hearing aids have helped to reduce its effects. But right now I find myself with one left hearing aid after the right one failed. So it is tinnitus in my right ear and not so in my left ear until my right hearing aid is returned in working order.
I worked with a flight attendant that had had rheumatic fever at a younger age. We found it easier to work together once she shared that she was deaf in one of her ears by talking to her in a way that allowed her working ear to optimally hear what I was saying. This brought a greater communication experience and our service to our premium customers was enhanced by this understanding. In fact, she shared with me that another co-worker had been very harsh to her due to her lack of knowledge of what my friend was dealing with her loss of hearing in the one ear. She was greatly appreciative at my efforts to compensate for her condition and we became good friends, as a result.
Beautifully written. I could picture our Lord over his drawing pad, with absolute and divine precision. Every single part and piece of us drawn into existence because of a thought. Smiling at the end, and not a single one the same.
Thanks, Barb, as always! We just got our tickets!!