Hullo, Reader! Thank you for your patience in my absence; I’m happy to report that the surgery went well and I’m healing on schedule. To be terrifically technical, because I’m fascinated, I had a postauricular tympanoplasy and ossiculoplasty for the removal of a cholesteatoma. I’m also bionic—I now have a prosthetic hearing bone, which I didn’t even know was a thing. It’s made of titanium, and if you start singing the song, I will hit you.
As with last year’s surgery, it’s now a game of rediscovering what it is to hear, which is just bizarre. It’s also wrapping oneself into the little things; I’m inordinately excited that I can put the arm back on my glasses, which I had to take off so it wouldn’t sit right on the incision. Being able to lie flat (without having to keep my head elevated) will be one of the best things about going to bed tonight. You get like that, after major surgery—the very small successes are suddenly huge and awesome God-given gifts of hope.
I’m still under a ton of restrictions, and will be for a few weeks at least. One of the runaway favorites of folks who ask is that I can’t sneeze for three weeks; try that sometime, it’s an interesting thing. But I’m back to work, back to church stuff (though not choir), back to life.
And super tired out by it.
It is, partially, that I’m legitimately super tired. My body is still healing, and that takes time, and I’ve been very deliberate about giving it that time this year (because I didn’t last year, and that didn’t go well). But it’s also that I look at what I’m re-entering and ask, without malice but in pure curiosity, why am I doing this? Have you ever had that experience, Reader, where you come back from vacation or illness or whatever and just realize you’re doing a lot of stuff for no reason you can recall? It’s not that you’re miserable doing it, but it takes you a minute to figure out if there’s a reason you’re doing it beyond just because you’ve been doing this all along. It’s habit, grooved deep into the surface of your life by the cart wheel that never veers.
This is not to say that I’m going to haul off and be a wilderness guide in southern Mexico or anything, it’s just that I’m taking a look at how much stuff I do and evaluating it. So please stand by while I do that, Reader, and forgive me if I miss a post here and there (I’m going to a conference next week, so I’ll miss next Friday right off the bat). Do keep checking in—I don’t intend to just fall off the posting grid without saying goodbye—but do understand that there are a lot of subtle shifts that are about to become Really Big Shifts in my life, and that takes some attention. I want to take these scars and bones and bits of titanium and make them something, but it will take a minute to make sure I know what that something is and whether it’s what God wants of me.
Your grace, as ever, is much appreciated.
The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones. And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley, and behold, they were very dry. And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” (Ezekiel 37:1-3, ESV)