Life experiences mold our identity

Day by day

Life experiences  mold our identity

By LIZ THOMPSON
THISWEEKNEWS
Tuesday February 18, 2014

No person is just one thing.

Recently, I was remembering some of the last words Mike Tikson said to me the day before he died.

“You were never just a secretary, Liz.”

I had been his secretary at Battelle from 1978-1987. We had stayed in touch over the years, but his final words continue to stick with me.

We all wear many hats throughout our lives. Sometimes the hats I wore didn’t fit well and I discarded them. At times, the hat was so unique I didn’t quite know if it fit. But I hope I’ll always remain a wife, mother, stepmother, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor and a Christian.

Those are roles, not jobs, I’m aware. Through my life I have been student; waitress; cafeteria worker; shoe salesperson (one thing Mike and I had in common, and he was a retired Air Force colonel); receiving clerk; secretary to researchers, engineers, doctors, nurses, social workers and computer technicians; and I have worked in administration of medical databases (before Windows), as a reporter and lastly as a teacher’s assistant for children with special needs.

Some jobs taught me integrity in the workplace; some gave me great on-the-job training, while others were riddled with problems that led to amusing war stories to tell, especially to young people just starting out. Having realistic expectations is a good thing, and aspiring to improve in the job is one of the best things we can learn.

But in all those jobs, I was never just one thing, and I wasn’t the job itself.

Those roles and jobs, along with other life experiences I’ve had over the years, developed who I am today. The day-to-day routines that were typical with the positions, the people I met, the new challenges I faced and the goofs I inevitably made were all part of the whole.

So when he said I was never just a secretary, he meant that the other roles in my life spilled into my daily work. Being a secretary was how I earned a living. But with his guidance, I learned more than how to greet people, type reports and organize meetings and the like.

When I first came to him with a problem, he listened. Then he gave me a life lesson I would use many times over.

“What do you think we should do about this?” I wasn’t sure. No one had ever asked me to offer a solution. For that matter, my opinion had never been sought out. It felt good but was also unnerving.

He went on to say that I should try to think of a solution and bring it to him to consider, even if we didn’t use the idea. I did as he asked and we used my idea.

I learned to detect and present problems, yes, but also think of at least one solution. That tidbit has served me well in all aspects of my life.

Over the years, I have reinvented myself, you might say. Circumstance required it with my diminishing ability to hear and experience in jobs that required it. I had two years of college under my belt, but one year in music and the other in special education didn’t find me jobs.

About 13 years ago, about the same time my hearing was restored with my first cochlear implant, I learned about experiential studies through Ohio University. I applied, was accepted and spent a few years documenting my experience, which turned into college credit.

I gained more than 50 college credit hours from that effort and years of varied life experience. Had I not met the challenge of trying new things, this education might not have happened. I like to think my determination to reinvent myself was a positive outcome of going deaf. My appreciation of hearing again is never ending.

The news is littered with stories about the jobless rate, unemployment compensation and letters to the editor with comments on both sides of the subject. The jobs are there if those seeking employment are willing to reinvent themselves or realize they are not just one thing. Taking a job “beneath” their qualifications might be a hard sell to the potential employer. They tell you that you are overqualified.

Maybe then a potential employee might say, “But I’m not just one thing and I want to work.” Then when the door opens, walk through and don’t disappoint.

Then we prove our worth. It’s not an easy walk but we don’t strengthen without effort.

Priority lists…

Day by day

Priority lists good for life as well as chores

by Liz Thompson
THISWEEKNEWS.COM
Tuesday January 21, 2014

Each new day is a gift. As years pass, seemingly faster every year, I become more aware of this reality. I try to start my days with a prayer that I’ll use my time wisely.

In the 1980s, I took a time management class at my workplace. My most valuable takeaway was to make daily to-do lists and prioritize them. The goal was to end our day with a lot of the tasks crossed off.

Years passed and I became a true list maker: grocery, daily to-do, what to pack for a trip, Christmas cards and gifts, and even books I’d read. Sometimes when the day is through and I read my list(s), I add accomplishments completed I hadn’t planned on and cross them off, too.

The last 10 days of December, my daily devotional book was about priorities. The author took each letter of the word, discussing what should be foremost in our lives. I realized that I don’t often list my life’s priorities; they are in my head and heart. This is not the popular bucket list or New Year’s resolutions I speak of, but what uses my time and talents and what fills my heart and mind. The order shifts with life circumstance, with many being constant.

Recently, I was reminded of a visual illustration. You have an empty jar — any size, you choose. You fill it with various small marbles or pea gravel. The jar is mostly full. Then you realize you still have some larger stones you need to put in the jar, but they won’t fit.

Start over and put the larger stones in the jar first. Then sprinkle the small gravel on top; these stones shift around and settle into the cracks and crevices. Some empty spaces remain. The jar represents our day, or life, and the large stones are our first priorities; the smaller stones are minor events. If those don’t all fit in our jar, or life, we’ve only missed out on something of lesser consequence.

Keep in mind that the small joys are no less important.

I asked some friends what their priorities are at this point in their lives. The answers have a common thread, partly because my friends and I are of a certain age.

Don Huiner, of Columbus, wants to become a better, active listener and talk less. “You know me well enough to know that’s not going to be a walk in the park for me,” he said.

Irveline, from Columbus, says her priority for this year is to teach her grandchildren, ages 2 to 20, Dutch and Welsh, which is their ancestors’ mother tongue.

“My priority for the year will be to say it like it is,” says Linda Sturm of Gahanna. “Procrastinator is a pretty word for sloth. I’m not procrastinating when I put something off; I’m being a sloth. By being honest with myself, dropping the window dressing, I hope to be more productive.”

Clay Cormany of Worthington says, “For me the ‘t’ in priorities stands out with t standing for time and a wiser, more productive and less self-centered use of it. That means more time spent playing with my grandchildren and seeing the world through their eyes; more time spent showing my love and devotion to my wife; more time visiting my 90-year-old aunt, who’s my last living link to my parents’ generation; and less time playing computer word games.”

“I want to spend as much time as possible with my grandchildren while they’re young, and my children,” says Judy Hannigan of Grove City. She hopes to start visiting people in assisted living and spend time with shut-ins, like she used to, because they may not see others very often.

My daughter, Mary, wants to be more like the biblical Mary and less of a Martha. See Luke 10:38-42 for the story about Mary listening attentively when Jesus was their guest while her sister, Martha, was busy working.

Elizabeth, my granddaughter, wants to make God’s purpose for her life her highest priority.

If we put these and similar long-term priorities in our jar first — and probably keep them there to remind us — we’ll have room for the small surprises. We’ll still have empty spaces of time open for contemplation, recreation and rest.

No matter what we place in our jars, Zig Ziglar sums up time management well: “Spend time with those you love. One of these days you will say either, ‘I wish I had,’ or ‘I’m glad I did.’ “

If you have the desire, write, share and enjoy

If you have the desire, write, share and enjoy
By Liz Thompson
November 20, 2013
ThisWeekNews

Everyone has many a story to tell. Is it “worth writing a book about” is a question I hear often from people with stories they think are worth the ink.

Recently, I was at Praises Books and Gifts in Lancaster where they hosted a book signing for my second book. Sitting with me was Kathleen Welty who has three stories in this book, along with 14 other contributors.

Since I live in Grove City and grew up in Westerville, Lancaster obviously is not my hometown but it is Kathleen’s. She let friends and family know of the event and many came to see her and meet me. The best experience of the day was meeting these old friends and family of Kathleen and others who attended.

Kathleen’s inspirational stories show how God has touched her life. All three were accepted by the publisher, while some others, by other people, were not. They didn’t fit the theme but were well written.

I fought for one of Kathleen’s stories to stay in the book. Three times it was cut and still kept showing up in a new working manuscript. The third time, I said that it must be meant to stay in and the publisher agreed.

This day, I met Kathleen’s longtime Campfire leader and we talked about how different it was from my Girl Scout experiences. Some friends since first grade showed up with smiling faces and warm memories.

One woman asked about getting published. She had heard of an online service where she could self-publish and she kept talking. When she stopped, I asked how much she had written.

“Nothing yet. But it’s about relationships,” she said.

“Is your goal to simply be published or to tell the story?” I asked.

Her answer was to tell me the experiences. I was hooked and told her I’d read it but she had to get writing. I suggested she sit and write from the heart telling the stories just like she told us that day.

“Don’t edit or worry about sentence structure, just write freely,” I said. “Edit later and do lots of it.”

Our Grove City Writers’ Group supports this idea of editing well and often and that editors are our friends. I have always believed that. We all agree, too, that we can’t have a thin skin if we are going to be writers — published or not. Not everyone reading our work will like it. I don’t like every book or article I read, do you?

Being published or seeing a byline really does hold a personal thrill but I believe writing is about expressing our thoughts, recording personal and family history, sharing our experiences and more. Most artists I know of different mediums are compelled to express themselves.

Also recently, I had the good fortune to talk with the Current Events group at the Upper Arlington Senior Center. They asked me to talk about my life as a writer. I still need to remind myself that, in fact, I am a writer. It’s such a natural act for me and I’ve been blessed with venues like this newspaper, magazines and my books to express my thoughts and experiences.

Having been a reporter in Upper Arlington for two years, this was especially pleasant for me. I did quite a few stories on members of this senior center and other senior citizens in this lovely burg. Their stories often were the stuff of history books, or what they should be.

My Uncle Walter and Aunt Eva Page lived there for years and of course I visited as a girl and as an adult. I used to love hearing my uncle tell stories of his life on the farm on the East Side of Columbus. He wrote them down for his grandsons. My father-in-law made tapes of his life in Southeast Ohio as a coal miner and all his other experiences.

Things I heard growing up from my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents seemed so distant from the life I knew. But these are tales of the people who helped form America’s history. They lived it, fought in the wars for our freedom and raised families against many odds. We can learn from this generation and need to listen.

Many have written their stories and been published. But whether or not you get published, I encourage you to write, share and enjoy.

Government shutdown turned park to crime scene

Day by Day
Government  shutdown  turned park  to crime scene

By LIZ THOMPSON
THISWEEKNEWS
Thursday, October 24, 2013

We’d planned our trip for about six months. My Girl Scout training of 10 years taught me to “Be Prepared.” In any case, reservations at a national park can only be made six months out.

The Great Smoky Mountain National Park is a feast for the senses. October is our favorite month to camp. Crisp sweet-scented air, cold nights, rustling leaves underfoot, fewer campers and mostly the older set, like us, who are ready for conversation at any time and respectful as to when to interrupt others to engage in that chat.

Campfires are welcome as the temperature dips throughout the day and we get a lot of reading done while listening to the rushing creek.

We arrived on Sunday, Sept. 29 and planned to stay two weeks. Our campsite was all set and, a little weary from a long drive and the work, we were about to claim our chairs to relax. Before that, we walked to get a newspaper at the camp store. That’s when we read the headline that the government might shut down at midnight. If that happened, all the more than 400 national parks would close.

Tuesday morning the park ranger confirmed the outcome. We were told to pack up and go home; or wherever your next visit was to be. Home for us.

We headed to town for a cell phone signal only to be met with rangers at the visitor center setting up the orange cones, yellow tape — it felt like a crime scene actually — and we made sure we could get back into the park to retrieve our gear.

“Yes, but make your arrangements and be out by Thursday noon,” he said.

So the task of taking down what we had just put in place began. Campers started to vacate quickly. The local news station came through the park to get on-camera interviews asking the question our lawmakers should be asking, “How does this affect you?”

We enjoyed our last day as much as possible and when we drove out Wednesday morning, only four trailers were left in our area. To see the rows of vacant campsites was eerie at best. As we left the park, roads were blocked and when we got to one point, we had to open a metal gate and shut it after we passed through.

We didn’t see another car until we hit town, about 10 minutes or more out of the park. Not the usual occurrence.

While we were packing our campsite, it brought to mind what I’d heard over the years; different versions of, “If you had to leave your home quickly, what would you take?” The thought being, if you were to never return or if the house was on fire, what would you deem most important or irreplaceable? As long as my family was safe, the things don’t matter, in the long run.

Would I pack a suitcase full of the things of my life? Could I really do that? Pack the important things in a case or box? Not really. It’s the people and memories that matter.

While I sat by the rushing creek at our campsite, I was surrounded by memories we had made in the Smokies since 1977. I was sad we had to leave so quickly and 12 days before planned.

The sadness also came on another level that is difficult to put in words. I could almost see the people who carved out this particular national park so many years ago. In my mind’s eye, it was in black and white like a documentary. Then I realized if the park were to never reopen, the forest would reclaim all that man had made for access to this natural wonder.

The few campers still remaining on Tuesday milled around and talked. One couple from Arkansas were traveling all around the country visiting national parks for another few weeks and would have to figure out whether to go home or find a state park.

A couple from Illinois came to enjoy the sound of the creek. He had gradually lost most of his hearing but five years ago got a cochlear implant. A man from North Carolina had questions on details about leaving and said, “I don’t want to get political but …”

How could we not get political when the whole mess was just that? We all agreed, shook our heads and kept packing.

Will we return again? The Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, yes.

Local author Liz Thompson writes the Day by day column for ThisWeek News.

Couple spread Good Word one word at a time

Couple spread Good Word one word at a time
by Liz Thompson
ThisWeekNews
September 26, 2013

We must be born with a desire to communicate. I’ve said it before and it bears repeating. The first thing we do is open our mouths and cry – loudly. Maybe we’re saying “Put me back!” but here we are ready to let Mom and Dad know in no uncertain terms we have arrived in this noisy world.

Parents learn to know what their baby needs by the intensity of the cry. Since communication is a two-way deal, babies learn by the parent’s intonation what they mean as well. As the child grows, they love being read to from colorful books leading to the love of the written word. Books become a part of our lives; teaching and entertaining.

We want to communicate from our barest needs to our deepest thoughts.

Imagine, though, you have no written language, only spoken. No books, magazines, pamphlets, closed captioning or subtitles, notes passed among friends, newspapers, email or EBooks, greeting cards, Internet… no need to search further.

Keep imagining as we count our blessings.

In 1917, a young man, William Cameron Townsend, set out as a missionary to the Cakchiquel Indians in Guatemala. While trying to sell Spanish translated Bibles to these Indians, “…he discovered that the majority of the people he met did not understand Spanish. Neither did they have a written form of their own beautiful language, the Cakchiquel,” according to the Wycliffe website.

He didn’t give up. Instead, he lived among the people learning their language while developing an alphabet for them.

Within 10 years, he had translated the New Testament portion of the Bible in that language. By 1934, he was aware of other cultures without a written language and opened Camp Wycliffe in Arkansas to train people in linguistics and translation. By 1942, the camp had “grown into two affiliate organizations, Wycliffe Bible Translators and the Summer Institute of Linguistics.”

The history of Wycliffe Bible translation goes back to 1382 when John Wycliffe translated an English Bible—“the first complete European translation done in nearly 1,000 years.” I encourage you to read this history on Wycliffe.org.

According to Wycliffe, there are more than 6,800 world languages and fewer than 2,000 of those languages are without a written Bible translation. That equates to 209 million people where translation projects have not yet begun.

Stephen and Rachel Katterenrich have been in Tanzania for more than two years developing a written language in the oral language of Bungu, as part of Wycliffe. The process has been ongoing for almost 10 years. Rachel studied language in college and Stephen the Bible. “We have melded our talents,” Rachel said.

This next year Stephen will be studying the Greek language.

Their first four months were spent learning Swahili. “We had some fun blunders along the way,” Rachel said. “Like when I was trying to say someone was a patient (in a hospital) and I was actually saying they were patient (in behavior).”

Stephen said that he can understand the language easier than he can speak it, so far. In time he hopes that changes.

In English, one word can have several meanings and may be spelled the same but the meaning changes with different emphasis. The simple word “oh” which can mean “Oh, right!” as in an aha moment or “Oh!” as in surprise or “Ohhhhh” when dragged out like “Oh, I see!”

In Bungu, the emphasis and the spelling are different in many words. The written word needs to read like it sounds. It’s a complicated and tedious process. The villagers are eager and taking active roles to help make the written language happen.

Just as Townsend worked with the people to learn their language, Stephen and Rachel are living and working with the villagers to learn their language, hear their stories and translate them into writing by creating a data base. It is what they call a cluster project with other people working on their language projects and sharing resources.

The villagers are grateful to Stephen and Rachel. When the Katterenrich’s left to come to the States for a year, they were lovingly reminded that they would return to them. One day, in the not too distant future, they will celebrate with Bible translation being complete.

It matters not where we are born or what language we speak, communicating is vital. It’s comforting to know there are those willing to make sure all people have a written language.

One person and one word at a time.

The little things…

Day by day

The little things paint our days, make up life

By LIZ THOMPSON
THISWEEK NEWS
Monday August 19, 2013

It’s all a matter of perspective.

“That’s a cute dress,” I said to the young girl in the library. Since she was wearing leggings, I added, “Or is it a top?”

The Dad answered with a smile, “It doesn’t matter what it is called as long as it twirls!”

“Will you twirl for me?” She did. It was a great dress or top for twirling.

I found myself smiling for a long time after I moved on from the girl who loves to twirl. The 30-second conversation and a smiling twirl brightened the rest of my morning. Even now, hours later, I can still see her shy smile as she started to spin and the crooked smile of the Dad telling me, “See?”

How we see our day to day lives; the significant things and the moments paint how we count our day as a success or not.

Songs and poems have been written about the little and simple things in life that make it all worthwhile. My life experience has proven it really is the moments that make up the whole.

We have friends with acres of corn who offered to let us pick several large bags.

This was an unexpected and delicious gift. That we had so much we were able to share with our neighbors and family, made it more special. After we blanched, cooled and cut the corn off the cob to freeze and I realized I didn’t cut my fingers once — which is kind of a big deal for me — I was even more grateful.

More than once in my life, someone has told me to look out a window or out at something — a bird, flower, person — and I find I’m looking too far away when it’s right near me. Often I have missed the chance to share this sight because I looked too far.

That reminds me of the idiom about not being able to see the forest for the trees. Being too wrapped up in the details to enjoy the general situation.

One night I was peeking out from under our covered patio to see if there were stars in the night sky. I caught a glimpse of a shiny thread and followed the line only to see a spider the size of a silver dollar propped in the middle of its web.

Had I stepped two feet to my left, I would have walked right through the center. My focus was too distant to see the whole picture.

No matter what we think or what people tell us, time doesn’t really fly. It feels like it when we realize a month is almost spent or summer is almost over. Children back to school already? Where did the summer go? we think. Of course, it didn’t “go” anywhere and our minds tell us this fact but before we know it we are getting our cool weather clothes out again.

We have moved so many times that we remember what was happening at any given time by saying, “Where were we living then?” Our moves and various homes are markers for our life moments; where and when our children or grandchildren were born; when we started or left a certain job; and when time started flying by too fast and the little life moments became more precious to us.

I know when the latter started happening with me. It was when I slowed down a little at a time. Sure, life happened to slow me down but now I count it as a blessing in disguise.

When my youngest grandson, 13, asked me to do exercises with him, and I asked what kind — chin ups, pushups, sit ups and more — I said my sit ups aren’t the kind he described, and would he prefer a game?

He agreed and we played Tiddly-Winks, his choice, and he still beat me even though I said, “I grew up playing Tiddly-Winks.”

Then we played the card game War and much to my surprise, I won. We played till I had all the cards. My grandson said, “That never happens!” I said that is does when you play long enough. While we played, we also talked, laughed and joked. We enjoyed the moments.

It’s all about perspective. I see it clearly.

A quote by Frank A. Clark sums it up well.

“Everyone is trying to accomplish something big, not realizing that life is made up of little things.”

Give a second chance…

Day by day

Give a second chance; be an organ donor
by
LIZ THOMPSON
THISWEEKNEWS.com
Tuesday July 23, 2013 12:38 PM

 

Second chances. Our parents lovingly gave them to us as we learned right from wrong while testing the limits of the boundaries set before us. We grow and learn to make better choices.

Some people won’t get second chances unless someone else makes a good choice — in most cases, a stranger. When we opt to be registered as an organ donor upon death, and no longer have need of our organs, we become a potential hero.

“When a person is put on a transplant list, it’s because their doctor has told him or her that they’ve run out of options,” said Don Huiner, of Columbus. “Their only hope is that an organ will become available. And if they do get that lifesaving organ, they get their second chance on life.”

Huiner is an ambassador for Lifeline of Ohio and has talked with people across Ohio about being an organ donor.

“What a lot of people don’t realize is that, just because you need an organ, you’re not necessarily going to get it. Someone has to say ‘yes’ and sign up to be an organ donor.”

Some person whose identity the recipient might never know.

More than 3,400 Ohioans are on transplant waiting lists. In 2012, only 297 Ohioans donated organs at the time of their death. According to Lifeline of Ohio, their “gifts resulted in 958 life-saving transplants.”

Kaitlyn Thompson, of Lifeline of Ohio, explained: “The heroes who register as organ, eye and tissue donors can save eight lives and heal up to 50 more by donating vital organs and tissue.” The organs that can be donated are the heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, pancreas and small bowel. Tissues able to be donated are corneas, bone, fascia, skin, veins, tendons and heart valves.

She explained and clarified the myths and misconceptions that can discourage people from registering as a donor in the Ohio Donor Registry. Some common myths include:

* Doctors and medical professionals won’t do everything to save my life if I’m an organ donor.

WRONG: The priority of the medical professionals at the hospital when an injury occurs is to save the patient’s life. A transplant team does not become involved until independent physicians have determined all possible efforts to save the life of the patient have failed and a time of death is announced. Doctors and hospital staff don’t even have access to the registry to see if the patient is a registered donor.

* My religion is against donation.

WRONG: In fact, all major U.S. religions support donation as the ultimate charitable gift of life and love. Individuals are encouraged to speak with their religious leaders about donation.

* I’m too old to donate.

WRONG: The truth is, you’re never too old to donate. The oldest donor to date was a 92-year-old who donated his liver to one of the more than 118,500 people waiting in the U.S. for a life-saving transplant. Anyone over the age of 151/2 can be a hero of donation by registering when they obtain/ renew their driver’s license or state I.D.

Individuals are encouraged to share their decision to donate with their families so they can help honor the person’s authorization to donate.

One of Huiner’s role models is his late daughter, Erika. After a courageous lifelong battle against the ravages of cystic fibrosis, Erika was listed for a transplant and waited three years before receiving two lungs on her 24th birthday. She lived a full and healthy life for nearly four years before dying of a cause unrelated to her transplant.

“Erika was not able to donate her organs but was a tissue donor and gave the gift of eyesight by donating her corneas,” he said.

Huiner remains in awe of the way Erika lived her life, but said it would be wrong to call her a hero. “The heroes of Erika’s story are the parents of a young girl who made the decision to donate their daughter’s organs so that four people, including Erika, could realize a new, healthy life.”

Not everyone who needs a transplant gets that second chance. Some die before an organ becomes available.

“In a perfect world, everyone who needs a lifesaving transplant should be able to get it. First, however, someone has to say ‘yes’ and sign up to be an organ donor. Everyone deserves that second chance at life,” Don said.

You can ask questions and register to be an organ, eye and tissue donor by visiting your local Bureau of Motor Vehicles agency, calling Lifeline of Ohio at 1-800-525-5667 or visiting lifeline ofohio.org.

Technology lifts quality of life for those with hearing loss

Day by day

Technology lifts quality of life for those with hearing loss
By LIZ THOMPSON
THISWEEKNEWS.COM
Wednesday May 15, 2013 1:53 PM

The short of it: I became deaf.

The long of it: I learned how to cope.

Technology has become what was considered futuristic in the ’50s, when my hearing loss was discovered at age 9. It would be 30 years before my first hearing aid and 41 years before I was totally deaf and received my first cochlear implant. Four years ago, I had my second implant.

My ability to hear and understand speech and sounds went from 0 percent to almost 97 percent in a quiet setting. To be able to sit in a dark room and carry on a conversation was a miracle. I stand amazed and grateful for this technology.

I’m not alone in my hearing-loss struggles. According to Stanford School of Medicine, about 36 million American adults report some degree of hearing loss. Stanford also stated two out of every 1,000 babies in the United States are born deaf or hard of hearing, and close to a million children in America have hearing loss.

Kate Morris, 33, of Upper Arlington, is initiative coordinator for the Stanford Initiative to Cure Hearing Loss. The Stanford Initiative involves hearing-loss research investigations in four areas: stem cell therapy, gene therapy, molecular therapy and targeted neural stimulation.

She says she has “a wonderful 3-year-old who wears pink hearing aids.” Very cool. I’m thrilled her daughter, Lily, has possibilities for a better scenario than I had available as a girl.

“Because of the newborn hearing screening … in the hospital on the day she was born, we were able to catch Lily’s hearing loss very early and to have her fitted with her first pair of pink hearing aids at 7 weeks old,” Kate said. “Lily now speaks at a level above what is considered age appropriate, and currently attends speech therapy at the OSU Speech, Language and Hearing Clinic, but otherwise attends a mainstream preschool.”

Her family also feels “amazingly lucky to be dealing with hearing loss at a time when there is so much realistic hope for a cure, which could be beneficial for Lily or Lily’s children, should they have hearing loss, and that in the meantime, huge strides are being made in assistive technologies.”

Many obvious factors play into causes of hearing loss. Some include noise pollution from military service, industrial activity, illness and any prolonged high-decibel noise.

Hearing loss has side effects not often discussed. The Stanford Initiative, and most specialists, agree with my experience of withdrawing socially, being frustrated communicating with friends, family and coworkers, and facing depression and isolation. It’s easy to think you are the only one and, as the numbers tell, we are not.

Darryl Will, audiologist with Hearing Health Solution from OhioENT, says studies have linked untreated hearing loss to diminished psychological and overall health.

“Most recently, researchers have found that there is a direct relationship between the degree of hearing loss and the risk of later developing dementia or Alzheimer’s disease,” he said.

Will adds that “loss of hearing often coexists with other health problems and should not be ignored.”

With Stanford’s research, improvements in hearing aids and cochlear implants, children won’t need to wait years like my peers and I did.

Hermine Willey, 76, of east Columbus, has known of her hearing loss since she was 7. She got her first hearing aids in 1981 and now loves her digital hearing aids that allow her to be active in the hearing world.

Dave Scott of Upper Arlington marks his birth as “after Benny Goodman’s Carnegie Hall concert and before we entered World War II.” His sense of humor intact, he has sported hearing aids since December.

Wendy Brady, 44, of northwest Columbus, wears hearing aids as she waits to become a candidate for a cochlear implant. Her hope is that she will hear her young children with a clarity that is missing now.

Pat Vincent, 64, of Columbus knew of his hearing loss at 14 due to Meniere’s disease. He now has a cochlear implant.

We all encourage being proactive and finding support through organizations such as Hearing Loss Association of America or Association of Late Deafened Adults. Since 1927, the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association has spotlighted May — Better Hearing and Speech Month — as “a time to encourage Americans to get their hearing tested and determine if they have a hearing loss.”

Anything sound familiar? I encourage you to learn how to get your hearing checked at these websites: hearinghealthsolutions. com; speechhearingclinic. osu.edu; or columbusspeech.org.

Local author Liz Thompson writes the Day by day column for ThisWeek News. Reach her at lizt911@gmail.com.

Big volunteer results

Day by day

Big volunteer results grow from tiny start
By Liz Thompson
THIS WEEK NEWS
April 16, 2013

In 1970, a group of doctors’ wives in Grove City wanted to raise money to help battle cancer. More women joined the cause. Many were what we called housewives in those days. Again, don’t underestimate.

Mary Crane, of Grove City, was one of the originals. “Cancer was coming to the forefront and not going away anytime soon,” she said. “We wanted to help.” They started with fundraisers such as bake sales and card parties.

“We heard that a couple other towns were starting thrift shops to raise money,” Mary said. They followed the example and rented a little store on Broadway next to an auction house. The first year they made $500. In 2012, they donated $31,745 to the cause.

They moved a couple times for better space. In the last decade, they opted to send their monies to the Columbus Cancer Clinic, begun in 1921, and in 2005 became an agency of LifeCare Alliance, which provides services to seniors across the region.

“We met with them and were impressed and decided to go with them. The Worthington and Reynoldsburg shops decided to do the same thing,” Mary said.

The Columbus Cancer Clinic is Medicare-certified and provides education about cancer prevention and early detection, head-to-toe cancer screenings, examinations and mammograms, regardless of patients’ ability to pay. In 2011, the program served 3,469 clients providing 1,593 mammograms, 1,163 head-to-toe cancer screenings, and 713 clients with home care support services.

Linda Sharp, retired, who has been a volunteer for almost 10 years, said it feels good to give to the clinic because it helps people locally. “If someone needs a wig, because of their treatments, they can go there and get one.”

Shirley Barnes of Grove City, recruited by Mary Crane, loved working the shop for 37 years. The second year, she was asked to be president and said they needed more help and they formed a board of volunteers. “We didn’t even have a sign yet.”

“We hoped to find a cure but didn’t realize at the time there were so many types (of cancer), she said. “I believed in the cause.”

The Grove City Thrift Shop, located off the north side of Stringtown Road at 3684 Garden Court, is not easy to find. But once you do, little treasures abound. It’s not just about the trinkets or clothes you might find; it’s the people who will help you. Volunteers are what make this trip worth it.

After a little shopping, I got easy answers to my question, “Why do you volunteer here?” The overriding answer is because cancer touched their lives. The volunteers are giving back.

Shirley says she always got more out of working at the shop than she put into it. “The stories customers would tell us about people in their lives with cancer, well I think they felt safe telling us. If we volunteered there, we must have compassion.”

Betty Lewis of Columbus, a retired school secretary with South-Western City Schools, has volunteered since 1995. Her mother and mother-in-law had cancer.

Sue Shilling, of Mt. Sterling, said her husband and mother had cancer. She was a frequent shopper there but after retirement, she wanted to contribute to a worthy cause.

Dorothy Lanch, of Orient, has a little more than a year under her belt at the shop. “I felt like I’d been here for years the moment I walked in the door as a volunteer,” she said. A friend died from cancer and breast cancer is in her family. “I wanted to do something worthwhile after working in the corporate world for 41 years,” Dorothy said. She retired from Nationwide Insurance. “It’s shattering to see someone retire and months later they are gone, just like that,” she said, referring to her friend.

Sharon Downing of Grove City, a 37-year volunteer, said, “It’s a business and there is a lot of background work these self-giving volunteers do. We have lost some volunteers to cancer and some of our volunteers are cancer survivors.” Sharon and her family have struggled with the disease.

There are more than 50 shop volunteers with this passion to give back. I wish I could name them all, but that’s not why they do this.

Mary said, “No matter what you do, or how you do it, or when you do it, you can help fight cancer.”

For more information about donations, consignments or volunteering, call the Grove City Thrift Shop at 614-871-1126. Find out more about LifeCare Alliance at lifecare alliance.org.

Worship in Silence

This was originally posted on Jebaire Publishing’s website. Unfortunately, due to hard economic times, they will be closing their doors in 2013. They have served me beautifully as a writer and author. They published my second book God Whispers: Nudges, Fudges and Butterfly Moments in 2012.

Worship in Silence

By

LizThompson

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:10)

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Going to church was part of growing up for me. The sound of our church bell roused me from sleep on Sundays, sending out a reminder to come worship. I didn’t even think about not going to church—it was an integral part of my life, and I loved everything about it. From walking in the doors, seeing familiar faces, listening to the music and singing in choirs since my youth, to listening to sermons—even when I could not understand everything said—and returning later for youth group meetings or other events at our church.

Music was a huge part of my worship. Singing was as natural as breathing for me. Walking two by two into church in our choir robes and holding our music high, we would sing, “Holy, Holy, Holy” marking the time with each step. The words of the hymns soaked into my heart and soul comforting and teaching me.

Looking back, the ritual of worship and familiarity was something I sought out when I was an adult and on my own. There were times I moved far from God. I’m not proud of those times, but I know I learned from them. Those were lonely times thinking I could do things on my own without seeking God for answers; without looking for a place to worship with others and not listening to God’s direction.

But today I know God never moved. He was right there waiting for me to wake up and listen to His voice.

Listening was a problem for me physically since at least fourth grade when I was told what I already sensed:  I had significant hearing loss. The 50′s were not a time when technology would have helped me very much but acknowledgment from my family would have helped. Yet, I became stronger and learned to read lips and body language as my hearing worsened. By 29 I needed hearing aids but waited 10 years before taking action on this knowledge. The doctor told me my ears were 80 years old. When I asked what they would be like when I was 80, he said, “Learn sign language.”

With my first hearing aid, the world opened up for me, and I was better able to live in the hearing world. Then a few years later, a second hearing aid helped even more. About this same time, God inspired me with lyrics and music, and I performed them with my guitar. After six years of this inspiration, it stopped as suddenly as it started. That’s when I started taking American Sign Language (ASL) classes. If nothing else, I would sign the music.

Soon I realized I could no longer hear my own voice when I sang, especially in choir. So I relented and sat in the pew with my husband. Soon after, I was deaf with only about eight percent of my hearing remaining.

How would I worship without music? Without hearing? All my life, worship involved voice and now mine was silent. My life was silent with only snippets of sound.

God reached me in my silence. He spoke in a silent language of my heart. He taught me to listen in new ways and gave me courage to move on in the hearing world.

In the late 90′s, attending church meant my husband repeated the sermon highlights when we went home and the bulletins were how I obtained church news. People were kind, knowing I couldn’t take part in conversations and hugs were plentiful. I was part of a team that sought FM Listening Systems for the hard of hearing in our church. That helped me for a time but then, no longer. Life was silent and I sat in the pew praying while others sang and spoke.

One Saturday, I drove past a church I’d seen often and my car seemed to steer into the parking lot. I took a deep breath and walked to the door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again, knowing there were people in the church. Nothing. I peeked in the window and saw people and knocked a third time and someone saw me and opened the door. I was so nervous and embarrassed. Why? It was a church for the Deaf and I had been knocking!

Using my rough ASL, I asked a few questions about services and told them my husband was hearing. “How will he know what is happening?” I asked. The pastor spoke and signed back to me, “We speak and sign and have many hearing in services.”

We attended for a year, I grew and learned that worship wasn’t all about talking and music; it was about praising God and letting his love shine into the world.

God continued to reach me in silence, but in 2002, I had my first cochlear implant restoring 95 percent of my hearing. Thank God! Sound was back in my life, but I am still deaf when the batteries die. Music didn’t return with the implant, but I have a new appreciation for sounds of nature which is truly music to my ears.

Our loving God knows all our lives. He knew I would become deaf and need to learn the music of my heart—His heart. Over the years, my love of writing was developed through poetry, music, essays and various writing venues. Now I know why. One doesn’t have to hear in the true sense to write. But since I hear God in my heart, mind and soul, His messages come through loud and clear. And I write.