Teaching (and learning)

I taught again today. I considered beginning the class with something like, “Welcome to another episode of The Hoarse Whisperer” but I thought better of it. I can’t afford to use up my voice on jokes, as tempting as it is. Besides, I try hard to downplay my limitations, in deference to the lesson material. (Also, play-on-words jokes don’t go over so well when, well, you struggle to talk. People are expecting something more valuable or meaningful than self-deprecating humor.)

I feel that it went better this time than last. I admit that I expended an inordinate amount of worry this past month. Kara feels that the worry makes all my symptoms worse. There may be a correlation between anxiety and symptoms, I’m not sure, but there is definitely a link going the opposite direction. (i.e., When I feel a wave of fatigue or it gets really hard to talk I worry about how I can teach.) Kara says, “Why are you worried? I can hear you fine.” I appreciate the encouragement but when she says this, it’s one-on-one, she is five feet away, and I have said maybe 20 words.

But today it was fine. I mean, I’m not the next American Idol or anything, and it was very hard, but I had a little clip-on mike and I made it through. I was audible enough. (Simon would have grilled me but Paula would have had kind words.)

I realized this week that I will never get a memo saying, “Yeah, about Sunday, you’re not going to be able to do it.” All I can do is prepare to teach, replacing thoughts of fear with thoughts of faith, and just do my best.

Besides, it’s just a class. And it’s not like it’s a tough crowd; they are all my friends and will do whatever they can to make the class a success.

Name Them One by One

I miss singing. My voice trouble just doesn't allow it.  I have learned that even though I cannot sing, the desire to sing has not yet been muted. It is frustrating. Every once in a while I try anyway and the result is pitiful. I especially miss singing the good hymns at church.

Today we had a “broadcast” Stake Conference. The intermediary hymn was “Praise to the Man.” I love that one. I tried to hum along softly but even that got too hard. I then just mouthed the words but when we got into the later verses, I wasn’t so sure of the lyrics. Oh wait, they have the words on the big screen, right? News flash: you don’t see that well either. I started feeling sad; I just wanted to sing!! Is this not the weirdest “challenge” you’ve ever heard? I have no precedent. I never even considered that the nerves controlling vocal cord tautness could malfunction resulting in loss of tone and strength. I just always figured that I’d be able to do something as easy as sing.

Fortunately I didn’t let the self-pity train leave the station. I know that it doesn’t help anything or anyone to focus on the limitations. OK, can’t sing and eyesight isn’t great. What do I want? A medal? A violin solo?

I needed to shift my focus at once. Sure, there’s a black cloud, a weird black cloud, but what is the silver lining? I then considered that my hearing is fine and I could enjoy listening to the hymn. Not everyone has that blessing. Further, I was standing next to my son and I could hear him singing beautifully. There are a lot of blessings in that sentence. I can stand. I have a son. My son can stand. He is next to me. He can sing. He can sing well. He is singing. My son is singing a hymn with the congregation. He is singing very well.

I was up to ten and I’d scarcely started. Counting your blessings really works.

Just to clarify...

As a follow-up to my last post on prayer and personal revelation, I thought I should clarify a couple things. First, I don’t believe that prayers aren’t answered; I was only making the point that sometimes I have been guilty of asking for an answer that either was an attempt to forfeit agency or for which the Lord has been very clear on the principle through scriptures, inspired ecclesiastical leaders, or through other means. For example, I entered the mission field with a hundred prayers on my lips, but whether or not I should serve was never a question.

Referring to a hypothetical architectural decision Elder Packer said, “Maybe the Lord just doesn’t care.” I don’t think he meant that the Father is uncaring, even over the minutiae of our lives. I think he was pointing out that many of life’s decisions are not relevant to our moral bearing and standing before God.

I do not believe that we are relegated to a life groping in the dark for spiritual direction. I believe that the heavens are open. I believe in inspiration. I believe that we should be sensitive to, and pay heed to the promptings of the Spirit. We may never know “why” we are prompted to do something, and that’s OK, but we should heed anyway. I was just opining that if you are struggling with a decision, and the heavens seem to be silent, first consider whether it is a right vs. wrong choice. If so, see what has already been taught to us. If it is not a moral issue, consider that perhaps there isn’t a “right” or even a “best” answer. That’s all I was saying.

Prayer Pondering

Our Sunday school lesson this week dealt with prayer and personal revelation. I believe in the power of prayer and the reality of prayers being answered. But I have found that a crucial step in getting answers to prayer is first asking the right question. A friend of mine made this exact point, referring to something Elder Packer once said:

"We often find … people who will pray with great exertion over matters that they are free to decide for themselves. Suppose, if you will, that a couple had money available to build a house. Suppose they had prayed endlessly over whether they should build an Early American style, a ranch style, modern-style architecture, or perhaps a Mediterranean style. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps the Lord just plain doesn’t care? Let them build what they want to build. It’s their choice. In many things we can do just what we want.”

Yes! I have been guilty of that. Even with “big” decisions, like proposing to Kara or making an offer on a home, I mistakenly believe that if I phrase the prayer so that it is a yes/no question, I’m more likely to get an answer.

The Lord has given us both intelligence and agency; He’s not going to make our decisions for us. When I pled to know if Kara and I would be happily married, he couldn’t answer. That would be up to us. What if he’d whispered, “Yes, everything will be fine.” Might we not have felt the need to work at our marriage so diligently? I also don’t believe He gives out insurance plans, like “Will everything be OK if we take this job and move to Kansas?” Wrong question.

Sometimes I hear statements like “We know that we are supposed to be here.” Maybe you are but what does that mean? I’d be real careful in this area; it sounds like pre-destination, a concept that I don’t accept. What does “supposed to” mean in this sense? A place where obstacles to happiness will be minimized? Or maximized to result in spiritual growth? Or somewhere in between to provide a challenging but rewarding life? Is it an area where your unique talents can be used to serve others effectively? Let me submit that this can occur just about anywhere.

I’m not trying to question people’s sense of personal alignment with what they feel is a master plan for their life. I have just found in that reviewing my life, every prayer where I attempted to defer agency (and therefore accountability) has remained unanswered. I think I understand now. Asking why I got MS or even if it is a challenge I’m “supposed to have” is folly. What I should be praying for is increased measures of patience, perspective, and peace. (And you don’t need a chronic illness to start asking for that!)

Health Update

I am afraid that The Silver Lining is turning into a weekly, not daily blog. I’m sorry to any of you that look for updates more often. Truth is, nothing seems to change too quickly, and it is hard to accurately measure anyway. I consider gradual worsening to be temporary, maybe there is an element of denial. But I do recognize improvements. For example, my vision continues to be compromised, but it doesn’t seem as bad as before. Driving is not as hard. Maybe this is due to my becoming accustomed to the impairment, but I don’t think it is all assimilation. Maybe this optic neuritis really is episodic as I was told. It has just been a long episode and I would not be interested in a re-run!

I do not plan to provide a symptom-by-symptom run down. Suffice it to say that everything is about the same, and I consider status quo to be a blessing. Time allows me to learn limits and assimilate challenges, making them seem small. Well, smaller and definitely manageable.

Pop Quiz

I attended an Eagle Court Sunday evening. Remarkable young man; I was honored to be there.  They did something I’ve never seen before. When filling the “eagle’s nest,” they asked us each to come to the microphone and state our name and the year we attained the eagle rank. He said it was a pop quiz.

Uh oh.

No, I didn’t have a problem remembering the year. I know the exact date. December 22, 1979. (I was 5,353 days old.) I even know the date of my board of review: October 26^th. It was my half birthday and my mom’s due date, but the baby didn’t come for two more weeks.

I think I was good with the quiz. I was walking well enough not to create a spectacle, but that thought did cross my mind. The father of the eagle went first. He is a year older than me but he was 1982. I then realized the only drawback I’ve ever felt for earning my rank at a relatively young age. I was going to sound older than I am!  But no time to worry about that, it was my turn. I barely croaked out my name and year and then was glad to find a seat in the nest. Who would have ever imagined that such a simple little thing could be such a challenge!  It is just weird.  Talking?  Most people do it without a thought.  I even did for four decades.

A few minutes later a friend of mine said his name, 1988, and then added, “and I can’t believe Dave Hixon is so old!”

I was so glad he said that! Not only did it mean that I was intelligible but that he realizes that even though I walk like I’m 80 and sound like "near death," I am neither and I can still take some ribbing. I had to smile.

Eagle Eye

Last July I was asked to be an auditor for my newly formed stake. It really was a question. The asker was a good friend and was sensitive to my health condition. I had no concerns about the understanding the audit process. I oversaw dozens of audits professionally, I’ve taken a college course in auditing, and when I was ward financial clerk, I survived several stake audits. So could I do it? Well, it doesn’t require speed or distance walking and I could probably schedule around the fatigue (or medicate.) There isn’t a whole lot of talking involved, so it was down to the vision. Could I see well enough to do it? You have to be able to see small numbers printed on paper.

Brimming with faith, I told him I didn’t know. I was willing to try, and if I couldn’t do it (or could not do it well enough) I would let him know. I was assigned three wards; surely I could do three measly audits.

I found the actual audits to be challenging. Seeing the numbers was difficult, but I could do it. It just took a little extra time and effort. Conducting the interviews with the bishops was hard. Talking can be so difficult at times. When I finished the last one I decided that I was done auditing. I was just so tired and it was so hard on me. For pity’s sake, surely there were 50 men out there that could do audits as well as I and for whom it would require far less effort. Honestly! Maybe a lot more than 50. 100? 200?

However, the audits are done only twice a year so I decided to wait and see. I’m glad I did, not because my vision, voice or stamina have improved but because I have realized that “the question” is not whether someone else could do the audits with less difficulty but whether or not I could do them. Period.

If “work” always went to the most able, I would never do anything (except maybe write.) I can’t live my life like that. Performing audits is hard, harder than it should be; I’ll give that to you, but so is making the bed and taking out the trash. These little tasks aren’t that hard, but I still do them, and it makes me happy to contribute. Sure, for others it would be way easier, but there is a positive correlation between work and happiness. I’m glad that Kara lets me do little stuff around here and I’m glad that my church leaders are not afraid to err on the side of giving me too much.

Yesterday I did the year-end audits for two units. Different from last time, I did them in the morning which helps. I could see the numbers with less difficulty and I wasn’t tired. One clerk mentioned to his bishop that I have “an eagle eye” as I happened to spot (and inquire after) all their “irregularities.” If he only knew.  (But let's keep that between us.)