In 1989, I was noticing that I couldn't hear some of the notes which the musicians in the church were playing.  They would seem to vanish at certain frequencies.  I had, at times, wondered if my amplifier was working properly. Needless to say, I had gone to my Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor to get a check-up.  During the examination, the doctor found several things which needed attention. My throat was fine, I had a degree of nerve deafness along with tone deafness (he said that if my hearing was any worse he would have me fitted with hearing aids), and my septum was deviate. What kind of testimony was this?  This might sound like a terrible testimony but it is a testimony that gives Glory to God.  Think about this.  Many people can say that they have had hearing made good by the hand of God, but how many people who have tone deafness can play music and sing on key.  God had to do this. First, God has given me the ability and talent to sing.  When I was a teen, I had what I consider a below average voice but I still wanted to be the best country music singer ever.  Back then, there wasn't much of a requirement for a singer to have a lot of talent so I figured I would fit right in.  Besides, I couldn't even read music.  I would listen to a song I liked, and play it by ear. In 1972, I received Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour.  It was then that my voice began sounding richer and I was noticing what sounded like a rather poor quality vibrato in my voice.  I didn't even have that before. On into the seventies, I found that I was recognizing notes, bars and measures, including all the other little squiggly things on sheet music.  I was learning to read music without studying music.  God Himself was teaching me these things.  He also taught me to play the six and twelve string guitars in the sixties and now he's giving that a little fine tuning. In the eighties, He taught me the four and five string bass guitars, and the keyboard. I've had no other musical education except a little coaching by Terry Ross, who was one of the best music directors I've ever served.  Even then, the personal coaching was minimal. Secondly, I have tone deafness, yet I sing praises to the Lord.  I had even played and sang for one and a half years (1993 - 1995) in a Gospel group called the 'Going Home Band'.  There is no way one could do this except by the power of God who kept me in tune and playing the right notes. You might ask, "Why doesn't God heal your hearing?"  I have considered if there was a healing, there would also be room for doubt.  Think about it!  There is, in fact, a wonderful testimony here which is far greater than a healing.  Here's a hard of hearing, tone deaf man in a music ministry.  This can only happen by the divine power and grace of God. Later, in early 1997, I was in a little country church near Yellville, Arkansas.  When they had asked for prayer requests, I told them about my hearing tests and how my hearing was getting worse.  An ear doctor had wanted to give me hearing aids and I didn't want them. They had me go before the church for prayer.  A man came up behind me and while they prayed, he put his hands on my ears.  I heard some loud crackling sounds inside my ears.  I didn't know what to expect from that point, but I believed that God did something. The next day I felt as though I was coming down with a fever.  I asked my wife to get our thermometer so I could check my temperature. Our thermometer was one of those electronic things that beeps at you when it's done.  I didn't know if the beeper worked or not because I never heard it.  I would just wait about five minutes and then read it. As I was waiting for my five minute limit, I heard this noise.  It went "Beep beep,,, beep beep,,, beep beep..." I wondered what that was.  My wife who was sitting across from me said, "Honey, it's beeping."  I was so amazed that I heard it that I reset it and took my temperature again.  It was so good to hear that "Beep beep,,,   beep beep...." sound. Oh, isn't that so sweet of Teresa calling me, "Honey?"  She calls me all kinds of little names like that, like Sweety Pie, Darling, Dear,,,   Seems that she's done forgot my name. Anyway, I knew then that my hearing was restored.  I was sitting in my favorite chair, and I began hearing this... "tick,,,  tick,,,  tick,,,  tick,,,  tick..." couldn't figure out where it was coming from.  Finally, after searched for it several minutes, I discovered that it was a battery operated clock on the wall, three and a half feet away from me.  I actually heard it ticking.  I never heard that before.  It was so wonderful to hear the little things in life which we so quickly take for granted. Since I didn't really intend to get into all that, I'll get back to the doctor's office.  Where was I...  Oh, yes, we were discussing the straightening of a deviate situation.  Namely, my nose; and anyone who knows my nose, knows that will be a very major operation since it's such a large part of me. While in the doctor's office, he asked me if I'd had any trouble breathing through my nose.  I affirmed that, "yes, I'd had sinus problems for years,' then he proceeded to tell me that I had no real sinus problem, but rather, I had a deviated septum. "A deviated WHAT?"  I thought, "What is a deviated septum anyway?" As he answered my questions, he told me that if I wanted to have it corrected so my breathing would be easier, I could get in touch with his office for the details. I thought a moment and realized that in a few months, I would have to work over the Christmas and New Year holidays.  I hadn't worked those holidays for about two years.  What a brilliant idea.  Since it was only September, I told him that if he could schedule it to include the holidays, I'd let him go ahead and re-break my nose and set it again.  He said that he could...  and he did. In case your interested, I got the my nose broken when I was fifteen years old.  My best friend gave it to me.  Actually, we had been arguing about which of us a girl liked best.  She lived only two blocks away.  We both thought that she was our girlfriend and we gallantly fought for her.  What a foolish thing to do because she didn't like either one of us.  Silly, huh? Well, I finally went to the hospital in mid-December on the same day that my Dad was admitted for an abdominal hernia. Since Dad and I love a little humor, I couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.  While at the admissions office, I asked if they could put my Dad and me in the same room.  The lady said she would try. When I was taken to my room, there was my Dad in the other bed.  Look closely at what we had here.  Two Mr Snurr's in the same room.  What more could we ask for? I think you've got the idea now.  When the nurses would come into the room asking for Mr Snurr, we would both answer.  This got them for a while when each new shift began, then they started passing the word around.  We had to come up with new trick now. Then they began asking which one of the Snurr's had the nose job or the hernia.  When they asked about Dad, I would answer saying, "Huh?  Me?  What?" We soon discovered that the nurses were pretty smart.  They began checking charts. Hmmmmm.  Charts.  Charts?  How tempting.  I pondered over it for a while but decided that I didn't want a hernia operation and I knew that Dad wanted nothing to do with getting his nose packed.  I figured I'd leave them alone. That evening after my operation, which went beautifully, we couldn't pull anything on them.  Though Dad was only having tests at the time, here I was with my nose stuffed to the brain. The next day the doctor was to unpack my nose and send me home.  Most people pack up and go home, but I always did have to be a little different. How bad could it be to get my nose unpacked?  They just pull out some gauze, right?  WRONG!!  I definitely learned something that day. The doctor came into the room and asked if I was ready to unstuff the turkey.  "Sure," I said.  He had a sense of humor, too..   ...  I think.  Maybe he was just being personal. He removed the bandage, and took his fancy, stainless steel, store-bought pliers and while he reached for my nose, told me that he was just going to remove the packing.  OK.  Go for it! Gently he grasped the gauze then quickly yanked back as far as his arm would reach and "OOUUCCHH!!!!" Looking through my watering eyes I saw six feet of gauze dangling between his pliers and my nose.  I thought, 'Hurry, get that last little bit, Doc'.  He placed his end of the gauze in a steel pan. As he reached for my nose again, I thought, 'Why are you smiling, Doc?' Again, he clamped onto the gauze and he yanked.  'OOUUCCHH!!!!'. By now my eyes are so watery I can hardly see him.  I could sense my Dad grinning.  Now we had about twelve feet of gauze in the pan and it was still attached to my nose. Now, I admit I have a nose that tends to dominate my face but I had to ask myself, 'How many rolls of that stuff did he put in there?  I hope he didn't use any brain apace for this.'  Then I saw his smile again. Leery of him by now, I eased back a bit when he reached for my nose a third time.  I began wondering where I put my suitcase.  He clamps...  and pulls OUCH!  I didn't realize that they could unpack BOTH at the same time, through one nostril. One of the greatest blessings I've ever experienced was when I saw the other end of the gauze.  Seeing the end I jokingly asked him, "Hey!  Doc!  Is there anything else up there that you need to get?" To my chagrin I'm hearing him say, "Of course.  Now we do have the other side."  (In my opinion,chagrin means horror) He went for my nose again and quickly pulled,,,  OOUUCCHH!!! I practically stood up on the frame of the bed.  He did this again, and finally came to the end.  How could he get over twenty-five feet of one inch gauze in my nose?  This must be one of those great unexplained instances of natural phenomenon...  Or the fact that I have a BIG nose. Then the doctor tells me that I can go home,,,  but,,,  with orders from him:  "First, do not sniff...  Second, no blowing of the nose." When I asked him what I'm supposed to do when I get a runny nose, he tells me, "Oh, yes...  there will be drainage" and he hands me this thing resembling a miniature horse's feed bag for under my nose.  I ask, "Do you mean I am supposed to wear this thing?!?" I looked toward my Dad.  There he was laughing almost uncontrollably. Later, as I was getting ready to leave, I decided that I was not going to wear a feed bag in public.  It would be so embarrassing and I didn't want anyone trying to put a saddle on me. After I arrived at home I realized that there was absolutely no drainage, therefore, no need for my feed bag.  I thank God that He takes care of even our little concerns.  Things like the embarrassment of wearing that thing.  He saw to it that I needn't wear it, and He allowed me to have the holidays with my family. Through it all, the only discomfort was the temporary pain I had to endure when the doctor 'unstuffed the turkey."