Amy Seamon Wyskochil ’00, ’05 M.Ed.
Senior Director of Operations, Institute for Educational Initiatives

“Margaret Mary, come to mom, please.”
A simple request.
Why doesn’t she listen?

Little did I know that Margaret could not hear me. I recall with vivid intensity the day Margaret was diagnosed with severe hearing loss. I remember the guilt and fear that wrapped my heart. How could I not know my youngest daughter was a master lip reader; that she was operating with more than 80% hearing loss; that her hearing was not, in fact, selective—that she wasn’t being a defiant three-year-old—that, in fact, the world around her was muted?

Margaret was not lowered through a roof for healing; no miracle restored her hearing. But thanks to modern medicine, Margaret is on the path to full healing, accompanied, like the paralytic, by the deep faith, hope, and love of family and friends.

This season of Advent gives this very gift to each and every one of us: it extends the hope of Christ’s coming in the most selfless love known to humankind—the gift of God’s own Son.

Imagine the scene that day in the temple when Jesus was teaching. It quite honestly must have been a madhouse! Imagine the commotion and din of the crowd gathered. And yet, Jesus silenced every one when he extended not only physical healing but forgiveness. The miracle of reconciliation, the opening of the deafened or paralyzed pathways of our hearts, is always accessible to us. If we truly open our hearts to Jesus, no ailment or disability can keep us from hearing him when he calls our name.
Come, Lord Jesus!