For Wilshire Baptist Church
My standard, born-with senses — “factory-installed” if you wish — have changed quite a bit in recent years. It happens with age and with accidents and the rough-and-tumble nature of human life. And the longer you live, the more rough-and-tumble events you endure, so it makes sense (pun intended) that our senses get beat up. Still, I find myself wishing for some of the sensory magic I used to enjoy but took for granted.
For example, remember when you were a kid and were told if you held a giant conch shell to your ear, you could hear the ocean? Well, I was in LeAnn’s Pre-K Sunday School room recently, saw a conch shell on the shelf, and couldn’t resist. Yes, I heard what used to pass for the sound of the ocean, but now it competes with the hissing tinnitus I have in both ears.
Tinnitus might be the result of too much loud entertainment – concerts, sporting events or even playing in the band — although I suspect it’s mostly the result of decades of mowing and edging without ear protection. Thankfully, tinnitus doesn’t bother me so much if I don’t focus on it. I can still hear the music I love, although some conversations are getting more difficult with perhaps a loss of volume or differentiation of sounds due to age.
I used to be able to smell anything and everything. I’d become nauseous if someone was using vinegar near me. Equally pungent, but more desirable, was the smell of a fire on the grill, a holiday candle or especially LeAnn baking in the kitchen. Not anymore. My sense of smell was dulled by the cancerous tumor treated in my sinus with chemo and radiation two summers ago. Now, I sometimes smell a pleasant odor similar to ginger, but it has no connection to where I am or anything I’m doing. It’s just there.
My sense of taste also was dulled during my treatments and for some months everything tasted like bland cardboard — as if there’s any other type. A dietician advised to continue eating no matter what but washing it down with a sweet beverage. The real game changer was the punch I drank at a funeral reception at Wilshire. LeAnn got the recipe from the church, worked it down from a 150-person serving to a pitcher, and mealtime was redeemed. Thankfully, my sense of taste returned over time and seems to be back to full strength.
My eyes are fine according to my ophthalmologist, although my vision gets fuzzy after staring at the computer and not blinking as often as I should. It bothers me most when reading music and I have trouble distinguishing between space- and line-notes in the middle of the staff. Reading glasses, a light on the music stand and eye drops help, but I miss the days when my vision was sharp and clear without all the extra eyeball gear.
Regarding touch, I still can tell when a pot is hot and a bottle is cold. I still can differentiate between textures without looking. However, it’s a good thing I touch most things with my fingers and not my toes, because some toes on my right foot have been numb ever since I kicked the leg of an ottoman in the middle of the night.
Meanwhile, my other senses — the ones we learn and develop as we live — seem to be getting stronger all the time.
My sense of empathy has increased as might be expected when one goes through some things, while my impatience with people griping about inconsequential matters has increased as well. I don’t express it, but what I want to say is “grow up” or “get real” or “just wait, you’ll find out someday what is really important.” But then that sounds like I’m wishing misery on someone, and I’m not. I just believe time and age have a way of stabilizing us with reality checks.
My sense of sadness at the difficult news swirling around us seemingly all the time — wars or floods or other disasters — grows deeper with every passing year. Related to that is my sense of outrage when the troubles are human-created.
My sense of astonishment at what some people choose to believe or not believe is at an all-time high. Some might say the same of me, so I keep my opinions to myself and don’t try to change anyone’s mind. They can believe what they want to unless their beliefs cause direct harm to someone else.
Thankfully, my sense of humor is doing fine. Sometimes it’s twisted, irreverent, even inappropriate, but if laughter truly is the best medicine, then a little shock and irony may be worth it.
My sense of wonder is still very active. Sometimes it comes from the strangest places, like recently listening to a man on YouTube break down the amazing chord structures and transitions in the late Brian Wilson’s song, “God Only Knows.” Or reading about the man with the highest IQ ever measured who explained his belief in the afterlife based on quantum physics. More often, it comes from simply watching a sunset or looking out across a valley at the infinite colors of creation.
Most important, my sense of gratitude has never been stronger. Every day brings another chance to help rather than hurt, love rather than hate, give rather than take, and thank God rather than complain.