Good morning, and welcome to our blog. So glad you decided to join us today. Once again, the Adkins half of our team is leaving this week’s post up to me, S. J. Wells, as she is completing a college course. So, buckle up, because there just might be an excerpt for you to read.
Last week, we interviewed Maria Morais, and something she said sparked a thought. Why do we tend to believe that our lives would be better, if only… Plug in your own circumstances, here.
Maria Morais said, “I strongly believe that if I could have my sight back, my life would be different but certainly not better.”
The phrase, ‘If only” is laced with poison. If only I could see, life would be perfect. If only I could walk, I would be happy. If only I could hear, I wouldn’t miss out on so much. Repeating “if only” over and over leaves little time for learning to thrive in the here and now.
I once read a quote that stuck with me, although I know not from where it came. “History is a different country,” it said. “They do things different there.” So true, and so worth taking to heart. How we do things today cannot have been done the same way in our past. I have an illustration for your reading enjoyment. Consider the following scene.
*****
“Remember that song you sang to me the night I called you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Is there more of it?”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “There might be. I’ll sing it for you, some time.”
“I’d love to hear it. It is one of yours, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Wrote it the day the rest of my vision went. I kept thinking how scary it was doing things without being able to see. I remember I was trying to pour formula into the babies’ bottles, and I kept spilling it. At first, I was frustrated, because i couldn’t see that bottle’s opening. I tried using my fingers as I had been taught to do, but my fingers kept getting in the way. Then, after I got that mess cleaned up, I went looking for the girls. Missy had put them in separate walkers and closed off the stairs to the basement, so I knew they were on the main floor, but I couldn’t find them, the quiet, little boogers.”
“What did you do?”
“I sat down in the middle of the living room floor, lifted my face to heaven and told God I didn’t know how to find my own children. Told Him I didn’t think it was fare, Him asking me to work so hard. Asked Him how He expected me to be a dad, husband and teacher when I couldn’t even see to pour milk.”
“And?” I asked, when he fell silent.
“After a few minutes, I hear this rolling noise and babies laughing. Together, they came up to me, stretched out their arms toward me and said, ‘Dada, out.’ I pulled them out, one by one, sat them on my lap, bowed my head and said, ‘Lord where are you?’ Just then, Britney and Brooke wrapped their arms around my neck, and it was like the Lord said, ‘I am right here, Connor. I’m in your babies’ laughter, in their touch. I’m in the light and in the darkness. Trust me, I’m here.’ So, after Miss and I put the girls to bed that night, I pulled out my guitar and out came the song.”
“Is that how you approach your disability? Trusting God to supply the need at the moment?”
“That’s how I manage,” he said. “He knows I can’t see, and He’s planned ahead for it. Take today, He knew that girl would walk off, so He sent you to read for me.”
When he put it like that, it seemed so simple. Shifting my position, I sighed. “I wish I knew how to do that.”
“They key is to stop trying to make yesterday fit into today. History is history. What worked before won’t work now. Tell your students Monday morning to pull out their slates, and see what kind of reaction you get.”
“They’ll look at me like I’ve gone crazy,” I laughed.
“That’s because what they used for school back in the eighteen hundreds isn’t used anymore. Same way with life. The old Rae could run without thinking about it. Now, you need a special leg just for running, which, by the way, I think you should get. It doesn’t mean you can’t run; it means you have to run differently. As for me, the old Connor could look at your face and tell whether you were uncomfortable because of the storm raging outside or because I’m sitting so close to you.”
*****
Did you catch what Connor said, here? He said, “The key is to stop trying to make yesterday fit into today.” He realizes his life is different after losing his sight; what worked back then does not work now. He must search for a new way of doing things.
He tells the woman with him, “The old Rae could run without thinking about it. Now, you need a special leg just for running, which, by the way, I think you should get. It doesn’t mean you can’t run; it means you have to run differently.”
This scenario is fiction, but I think it makes a good point. If you or someone you know has recently lost their vision, then you understand, it is very difficult to learn new ways of doing things. Frequently, you may hear, “I can’t.” After a while, saying, “I can’t” leads to a belief system called, “I can’t…ever.” Pretty soon, that evolves into “If only I could, but I can’t ever.”
The remedy? Go back up there and read what Connor did after cleaning up the spilled baby formula, when he couldn’t find his twins. He gave up and called on God. Admitting we are at the end of our rope is not a crime. In fact, whatever your belief system, the first steps to a successful life as a person who is blind or visually impaired, is realizing you need help. Even for those of us who have been blind since birth, admitting on a daily basis that we don’t have all the answers keeps us encouraged.
The next step is finding someone who has the answers that you do not. Do you need to learn blindness skills? Get in touch with folks at the National Federation of the Blind or American Council of the Blind. Ask your doctor if he/she knows of any Independent Living Centers who can help you learn new ways of doing things. Then, when you have contact numbers or email addresses, get in touch with these folks. Don’t be afraid to say, “I need help.”
Finally, let go of your fear of the unknown. My daughter just finished reading in her history book about the frontiersmen and frontierswomen who crossed the Appalachian Mountains, even though they knew very little about the habitat or inhabitants beyond those mountains. The unknown is just that-unknown. It something new to learn. It is only impossible if you believe it to be.
So, y’all want to read the lyrics to Connor’s song? Well, here they are. Enjoy and be blessed, and be sure to come back next week.
*****
Connor’s Song
Sometimes, I’m in a valley low,
And, I can’t see which way to go,
Because, the way is hid from me.
But in the darkness I hear Jesus say,
“Trust me, Friend, I’m on my way.
I’ll lead you to a place where you can see.”
Sometimes, it’s up a mountain,
Sometimes, it’s walking on the sea.
Sometimes, I’m on solid ground,
But mostly, I’m on my knees.
But no matter where He’s leading,
It’s all right with me,
Because I’m trusting in the Master
Who gave me eyes to see.
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