What? I can’t hear you.

Can you hearing me now? I’ll move closer.

With the family, I’m huddled two feet away from the television and they are all lounging ten feet back on the sofa eating chips and dip, talking and having a good time. I need to join the party.

I contend they keep the sound on the television too low.

My family says, “You can’t hear, you need a hearing aid.”

I said, “I can hear just fine.”

My son-in-law says, “We say something, you just grin. It’s so unnerving when people do that.”

“Not me. I hate it when people do that.”

I could hear just fine if the family would speak up. I’m in a family who talks very low. Remember, they’re introverts and they don’t want to be heard. My daughter’s co-workers tell her to use her outside voice. She’s four feet away from them inside. My son talks so low on the phone I can’t tell if it’s him or not. He says, remember you have a son.

My Sweet Al says I need a hearing aid, but he can’t hear either, so he doesn’t know if I answer him or not. He’s not the best gage for my hearing ability.

On the way home from the football game in Pueblo, My Sweet Al and I rode in the backseat, our children were in the front. They were talking straight ahead at the windshield.

I said, “If you want me to hear you, you have to turn around and talk to me.”

Our daughter handed me the megaphone, which I had used to cheer on the football players. I laughed, turned it around, put the small end in my ear and heard just fine. I said, “Wow, this red plastic megaphone only cost a dollar at Dollar tree, that’s a far cry from a $5,000 hearing aid. Maybe I won’t need to buy one after all.”

We had a good laugh over that one, but apparently no one’s laughing anymore. I tell them I have selective hearing. I’m dreaming, I’m creating in my head, I’m in another world, I only hear what I want to hear. But they’re not buying any of it.

I remember talking to my friend.  She was exasperated. She was really having difficultly talking loud enough for her husband to hear. So she bought him a hearing aid. The hearing aid bothered him so he put it in his shirt pocket. She says now when she talks to him, he just grins and she talks to her $5,000 in his pocket.

Years ago when I was struggling to tell someone something and they couldn’t hear, it angered me. I got louder and louder. I said then, I’m not going to do that to anyone. It provokes people. The day I can’t hear I’m getting a hearing aid. That day has come.

I was reading this morning about grace, that we might know a concept or a truth, but we are separated from the reality of it until we become one with that truth. We might say we believe it, but until we actually know it, we don’t own it. I’ve put off believing I needed a hearing aid. It’s time to own up to it.

So, I made the call. I’m taking the plunge. It’s not vanity, it’s just the effort of finding the right one without spending an arm and leg for something I don’t need. There are a slew of ones to pick from. They can run from $300.00 to $5,000. There are little one, simple ones, level of sound, 4 bands all the way up to 16 bands. There are different guarantees, with or without the remote and batteries.

I struck up a conversation with my daughter’s father-in-law who can’t hear a thing. He grins a lot, too. He told me all about hearing aids and said, “Put mine in your ear.” Oh me, I felt a little funny. It’s like using someone else’s toothbrush. I sheepishly took it and put the little flower bud in my ear. He must really be deaf. He had his up on the highest level. It blew me out of my seat. But, I could hear just fine.

 Final Brushstroke! So, I’m grinning and bearing it. Sometimes we have to do what we dread doing. I’m becoming one with the truth, I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t hear.