The Lenten journey continues with my choice to take a random photo each day. The following are photos from this past week. With my vision loss, I was unable to see it, but I heard the super moon last week was awesome – thank you to those who painted the picture for me in my mind. I heard robins singing – before the rain and the wind came. Spring has arrived…thank goodness for this new season!

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Welcome to the Season of Lent….for these 40 days I thought I might document my journey with a daily photo from my phone and write a line or two of spiritual reflection. My post today, is a collection of the first several days. More to come as the 40 days unfold….

For those of you who know me, you are aware of my love of photography. Having a vision loss puts a crimp in that fondness for taking pictures… but today, I decided to try to take some photos of the beauty around me and see how they develop.

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Sure…schools are closed and there was plenty of shoveling and plowing to be done; but I’d be remiss if I did not remind readers of God’s handiwork in our wintry landscape today. I downloaded the photos and took a deep breath: I enlarged the images and I could see the snow snuggled within the branches of the trees that danced in the early morning wind. I was also able to see the contrast of the bright blue sky against the brown color of the trees. I could hear the birds clamoring at the bird feeders, singing their pre-spring songs, but I was unable to successfully capture them in a photo. I am sharing the photos with you, friends. I hope you take a moment today – from work or from play – to thank God for the gift of the winter landscape!

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February 26, 2019

I would gently ask that people stop saying, ‘I’m sorry’  or ‘I forgot’ to me. There are times when someone might say, “Wow! That whole field is covered with snow geese! Take a look!”… realize in the next moment that I am unable to see them. Then they will say, “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot”. Sometimes someone will approach me without first letting me know they are there and I am startled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Or someone will walk away and I am still in conversation with them; not realizing they already left the space. “Oh”, they will return and say, “I’m sorry. I forgot”.

I am here to tell you, it is alright. There is plenty of room for helping each other feel comfortable in these situations.

I share with you, that it is perfectly alright to say words like ‘see’ and ‘look’. There are many words I use to greet my congregation every Sunday. Sometimes, I say, “It is good to see everyone gathered here this morning.” These words are a part of everyone’s common vocabulary. When avoiding these words, conversations may be awkward for both sides of the conversation.

I also share with you some tips for a sighted person walking with a blind person. When walking, the person with low vision will hold your arm right above the elbow. The blind person will walk about a half step behind you. The sighted person should always check for obstacles and explain them to the blind person as they walk. When in a crowd or narrow spaces, the blind person should walk behind a sighted person. The sighted person should announce the type of approaching space and which way to move through the space.

One more thing: If you need to speak to me, please make some noise or call me by name and tell me who you are – and I promise I won’t jump out of my shoes!
Those are some tips to help us better share our space together.
So – when I am walking in the park with you, tell me unapologetically to “Look at that cardinal!” When we are walking downtown Bethlehem, don’t be afraid to tell me there is a parking meter on my path!

Thank you! I am still learning. There is always a new situation unfolding that requires me to ‘look’ and ‘see’ how I will handle it!

Laughter is the Best Medicine. How many of you remember that section of the Reader’s Digest? In this section one would find funny quotes, jokes and anecdotes. Laughter is really good medicine, according to some researchers, and helps us to feel better. I get that. I believe that a good sense of humor, a positive attitude, an active faith and the support of family and friends certainly are also contributors to good health.

I would consider myself to be a serious-minded person the majority of the time. Sometimes I don’t even understand jokes unless they come with a detailed explanation.

I find myself laughing more these days – especially at myself. Those first few weeks with vision loss, the world was intimidating. I was nervous and clumsy and did a lot of stumbling over and bumping into things. ‘New’ situations popped up every day (they still do!).

 For example, a simple task like brushing my teeth turned into frustration because more toothpaste ended up in the sink rather than on my brush. At first I was upset – but then I laughed. Why not? I could not begin every day being upset! So…I changed the color of my toothpaste and my toothbrush. I manage much better!

You may be wondering why this was a big deal. Color and contrast is important with vision loss. White on white does not work: putting white toothpaste on a toothbrush with white bristles or eating mashed potatoes on a white dinner plate or pouring water in a clear drinking glass…. These things can be messy!

It has been interesting – and sometimes fun – to play with colors and see which ones are suitable for a particular task. Pastel colors do not work well, but primary colors do! Using pens that write bold and black work; not blue ink or medium point. Working on a document with a bright yellow background with black print is good, too.

As you journey through your week, remember to laugh. It will make you feel better!

Someone asked me today if it was snowing where I was. Where I was, was in my church office in Bethlehem.It is really difficult for me to tell if snow or rain is falling. At least rain, I can hear. The little bit of remaining vision I have is blurry 24-7 and light-dependent on what I am able to or unable to discern in front of me, beside me, or around me. I do miss seeing snow falI – I miss seeing the kind of snow that falls gently and quietly in tiny crystals to the ground…I miss seeing the kind of snow that comes down in a hurried flurry: huge flakes dancing to the tango (it seems) as they make their way to the ground, eventually impatient for children to make snow angels in the inches that piled up.

However, I can feel the snowflakes against my cheek. They are cold and wet. Refreshing. Once the snow stops, if I walk to the woodline, I can tell how the snow is cradled inside the branches of the trees or if I walk close to the pine trees, I can glimpse the snow sleeping on their branches. While we have our eyes on spring in the midst of winter, I find these discoveries – though not seen perfectly clear – still to be beautiful.

Unfortunately, the optic nerve damage that has occurred will never recover. Yet I am continually amazed at all the new ways I am able to experience ‘old’ things. It could be so much worse. Thanks be to God.

Being blind is not an albatross around my neck…it is an opportunity for growth.

Not my first reaction to the diagnosis, however. But that is how I feel about my vision loss today.

Today is my anniversary. Two years ago today, I suffered vision loss.

 You know the passage… Mark’s gospel, chapter 10, verse 5, we hear Jesus asking the blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man answered him: “Rabboni, I want to regain my sight!”

I wanted Jesus to ask me that question, so I may answer, too: “Rabboni, I want to regain my sight!”

Though I have been able to continue to do many of the things I once loved to do (but in new and different ways), would not be opposed to have my vision restored. It happened quickly. It happened unexpectedly. No pain. No warning. Those few moments that day forever changed my life.

Some background – I had an acute closed angle glaucoma attack in 1999, and because of that, I lost vision in my left eye which left me legally blind in that eye. On February 9, 2017, I developed non-anterior ischemic optic neuropathy in the right eye, which caused significant optic nerve damage. What I have left is severe visual field loss in the right eye and decreased vision which left me legally blind in my right eye. Ugh

When this happened, my first thoughts included those of my family – I would not be able to see my granddaughters dance again on stage…How was I going to care, support and love my family in the many ways I already did? I would not be able to see my youngest son kiss his bride for the first time as husband and wife…. I would not be able to see my grandchildren walk across the stage to receive their diplomas….I would not be able to take my mother-in-law to her doctor’s appointments s….I would no longer be the emergency contact for my grandchildren…. I would not be able to see my grandson play football or my granddaughter field hockey….I would not be able to be the same wife, mother, grandmother I was before I lost my vision.

Then other thoughts and questions – How was I going to minister to my congregation? How was I going to officiate the wedding and the funeral and the baptism I had the week after this happened? How was I going to preach, to teach the children’s bell choir, teach confirmation, carry out pastoral care visits, bible studies, animal blessings? How was I going to stay overnight at the shelter and help with our street neighbors? I would not be able to be the same pastor, colleague, teacher I was before I lost my vision.

Then more….Wait….How will I read (I love to read!)? How will I take pictures (I love taking pictures!) ? Will I be able to see a sunrise or a sunset? I am a little over the top when it comes to chasing butterflies across the meadow…crawling across the lawn to find the right shot of the bluejays and cardinals sharing the same space underneath the bird feeders…..waiting for just the right moment when the butterfly rests gently  on the Gerber daisy…..My passion for taking pictures will be a thing of the past.

The very thought of ‘not doing’ was painful, sad and frightening and brought me to my knees in tears. I grieved. Nothing…nothing…would ever be the same again.

I was uncertain what to do at first. Uncertain what to say to anyone. This was a new journey; a new path. After all, I could not even put the toothpaste on my toothbrush! I could not even see my face in the mirror in order to brush my hair! I could make a choice: embrace the blindness…or not. Trust God…or not.  I decided to keep doing – doing the best I could while seeking the appropriate assistance and tools I needed to help me keep doing, especially all the things I loved.

Jesus has not restored my vision. My vision loss is permanent. While I have overcome hurdles these past two years, I have not let my vision loss define me. Oh, I sometimes stumble, trip when I walk on sidewalks, bump into doorways, fumble with my key in the door….. I pray and hope and cry and laugh and question and above all…still able to love…I am these things ….because God’s grace and love are woven into my story as it unfolds each day….am thankful.

Next time, I will share more of the story….

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton