Since I celebrated my 60th birthday recently I've been in a somewhat introspective mood.
First of all, I've learned that "60" isn't nearly as old as I thought it was twenty years ago! It's amazing how our perspective about age changes as we get older. Now my definition of "old" is someone over 100! I don't really feel "old," though many of the cards I received implied otherwise! Hey, compared to Methuselah, I'm just a kid!
Second, I feel incredibly blessed to have lived 60 years. My father died when he was 49. My best friend in high school died about three years ago. Within the past month I have gone to funeral visitations for friends whose lives were far too short - a man who had just turned 50 and a woman who was 56. A young man in our church died suddenly last summer at the age of 37. It seems that more and more I hear of young husbands having massive, fatal heart attacks in their 30s, leaving behind grieving wives and young children. I realize that life is precious and fragile , and try to remind myself that each day is a gift from God.
Third, I think back ten years ago to my 50th birthday. Meniere's Disease had come into my life in 1998 like a thief in the night. The life I had known came to a screeching halt as I wrestled with this disease and also wrestled with God. For almost a year I didn't know if life would ever be normal again. In addition to having to deal with the unrelenting nausea, unsteadiness, dizziness, etc., possibly the worst thing was not being able to create, lead, or even listen to music, which was such an important part of my life -- and, in many ways, was my life.
In the midst of this life-storm, I received a call from someone who said that, as she was praying for me that morning, felt God giving her a message for me --- the same message, over and over again. So strong was this "message" that she had no choice but to call me, even though she had never done anything like this before. The "message" she said God was telling her was "I will heal Don, but it will be a slow and progressive -- and it will all be for My glory." I hung on to those words during the nightmare of that year -- and looking back, that is exactly what has happened. Although nothing changed immediately, later on that year I began to see small improvements, and in January of 1999 I was able to return to church and to leading, playing, and writing music.
Like Jacob, the wrestling match with God left me with a limp. The Meniere's is still there, but most of the time it is very much at bay and well-controlled. The constant noise that began in 1998 has never left, but it is more like a quiet hum or white-noise now that I don't even notice when there is ambient sound. Occasionally there are relatively-mild episodes that remind me that the "monster" is still there. But God's slow, progressive healing has given me back my life -- and amazed my doctor. Just last night, someone said that my recovery was a "miracle." Indeed it is!
Looking back, I can see that I learned lessons "in the dark" that I probably could not have learned any other way. After becoming weary of the struggle, I finally relinquished it to God, telling Him that I couldn't believe this was His will for my life, but if it was, to give me grace to accept it. In doing so, I found a sense of peace in the raging storm, and discovered anew that God's grace is indeed sufficient for our every need. Since going through the battle with Meniere's, I have now become an encourager of others who are experiencing this disease, just as other "survivors" encouraged me ten years ago. About once a month I either get an email, a phone call, or have a conversation with someone who needs to know that there is hope. I have also had numerous opportunities to share my testimony at churches, keyboard workshops, and other meetings -- even during a worship service at Church Music Leadership Week at Ridgecrest.
So now I stand on the threshold of another decade of life -- thankful to be alive -- thankful for the good health I have -- thankful for a wonderful wife and family -- and thankful for a God who has been with me and will continue to be with me every step on this journey -- through every season -- of life.
