December 1998 Issue

Mama (Viola) was 84 now, lying comatose in the hospital. Earlier she had left her home to another grandson and family, gone to live with her son which didn't work out. Then she went to a nursing home, and weary of life she quit eating. Viola became weaker and weaker and now comatose—not really able to communicate with her surviving deaf son, my uncle.

Knowing Mama was nearing the end of her life, I wanted to tell her good-by, and to thank her for what she had given me, her first grandchild. She had given me much in life—some one to hear me and talk with, when my own deaf parents could not. Some one who mothered me in ways my mother could not, and her taking delight in my existence meant a great deal.

Now she was comatose, and I wondered if I had come too late. As we began to talk, gradually she seemed to awaken from a deep sleep. At first she thought I was her deceased hearing son; then she confused me with her deceased husband. The more we talked the clearer she became, like a fog lifting letting through bright sunlight. With each passing word, life came back stronger. It seemed a miracle...like the Word became flesh.

This is what caring and listening are all about...words becoming flesh...new hopeful words growing out of hurtful and painful words make possible new being in relationships.

In this season, we need to know that it is our hearing one another that enables God's Word to become flesh in our lives. This makes possible a new birth or beginning.

William J. Johnson, Jr. (deceased)