FOUR-DAY DIARY

 

One morning I thought how secure it would make me feel to just sit down and let the world go by. My knee wouldn’t hurt, my ankle wouldn’t hurt with a shoe over the top where it has been broken twice, no painful plantar fasciitis as I walk. I wouldn’t need to worry about traffic, falling up or down steps, knowing people were staring to watch my dog work, myself speaking to someone who was on their phone, or doing something weird like wearing Christmas tree earrings for Easter, which I unknowingly did this year.

Aside from all that, how do you train a helper in the store not to keep handing you dresses and/or anything else you don’t like instead of taking you to your size and disappearing until you call them or end up at the register.

It would be cool to walk to the side of a pool knowing those already in the water were not holding their breath. Frankly sometimes I’m holding my breath too just in case they are right and I plunge right on in.

Yes, I could just be a little old grandma sitting on my front porch with my dog staring at the neighborhood. Don’t feel bad, I do that quite often, and especially with coffee and I enjoy very much being the little old grandma on the front porch.

This particular morning Vivi and I had our front porch solitude in the middle of the active neighborhood. She had her usual walk and I let her stop for just a few sniffs along the way.

So far this week the following incidences have occurred:

ON Monday The lady at the Dress Barn told me I needed a 2X in that blouse instead of just a large. I am glad she was not around when I found out she was correct. It was just the way the thing was made, right?

Fashion aside, I ordered lunch at Chick-fil-A and asked the lady to please help me find a table. That worked fine until the lady figured I couldn’t open my lunch boxes either.

Tuesday I went to the gym and as Vivi and I started toward the door to leave two young people were exercising on the carpet close to the machine I had just vacated. Vivi stopped and gave them a thorough licking since she figured they were in her territory.

Wednesday I went back to the mall to return the blouse.

I went into the shoe store and told Vivi to find a chair. She did and I sat down on a lady’s purse. My fault; I forgot to examine the chair first.

We passed some very young children while walking in the mall and one of them put a piece of candy in Vivi’s mouth. Before I could think I grabbed Vivi and stuck my hand in her mouth, then threw the candy across the mall.

 

And then?

While at the mall I went to the Hallmark Store and a lady offered to read the cards I needed for me. She laughed as much as I did as she read the funny ones.

I went into Pay Less shoe store just looking for some water shoes. That time the young lady and I were enjoying finding cute shoes in a size 3, laughing about the piece of candy when she accidentally knocked down an entire row of shoes from top to bottom. We were both laughing as I tried to help her pick them up and was putting red ones and green ones in the same box. I did find some cheap water shoes which work great, and at least my feet don’t need a 2X.

As I ate my lunch someone from my church from years back sat down and we had a nice visit.

 

It’s Still this week … Thursday.  I went to a gym for the first time. The lady was concerned about me going into the swimming pool, and frankly it being the first time so was I. However, Vivi laid down beside the pool right where I told her too and never moved until I came back to the place I left her. It was a great experience for both the lady, Kay, and me.

 

Now, why have I written this TLDR blog? If you don’t know what TLDR means just ask Siri. In summary, this blog means that experiencing the best things in life outweighs all the seemingly inconvenient ones. My ankle and knee don’t seem to hurt when I’m laughing. Seeing Vivi working at a mall or on a walk makes people smile. Someone wanting to open a box for a blind lady makes them feel like they have done something for someone else. Having a dog that knows what “find a chair” means is a super dog. Throwing candy across the mall turned out to be a teaching moment for a little one who will probably never stick something in a dog’s mouth again. Watching a dog lie quietly for 45 minutes while her owner swims inspired a doubting lady who couldn’t stop praising her.

 

I am grandma. I love my rocking chair, but even more I love life and maybe I just helped someone open their lunch box.

 

 

SERIOUSLY SERIOUS

 

If you wonder why I write a blog, it is for several reasons:

1. I love to write.
2. It is my hope that even though I love to write that what I put out there has some meaning to someone besides myself.
3. Someone said recently to me that “those who can’t …  blog,” a catch-all phrase used for many other endeavors as well. Most times my blog gets behind because I’m writing something else, yet I feel a purpose in blogging to help in some small way to further unite the blind and sighted communities.
4. I do enjoy reading comments from other people, although most of what I write is merely my own experiences and most of my opinions play out in my life’s circumstances.

 

Now, the only reason I put all that up there is to preface my blog this week and to ask that well-meaning people and/or pastors refrain from sending me theological comradery or correction, although prayers are certainly always welcome and appreciated.

 

Now, here we go.

 

It was a few years ago when my friend, Winnie, was with me at the mall and we got off the elevator. Two young men walked up to us and asked ME if they could please pray for me. I said: “Sure.”  I was a little bit uneasy about how Winnie might feel, but went ahead with the plan. I was sweetly blessed by someone caring enough to want to do something. It blessed me even more when Winnie said: “That was really special.” I can’t say this has happened to me an extreme number of times, unless you think that at least fifty is extreme … people in malls, while walking my dog, in churches and meetings,in homes, and once on a bus. The most recent time was Saturday at the Cracker Barrel in Mebane, NC. My friend, Dorsey, and I had been to visit Mom and had just finished our meal when a child walked up to me with someone I presumed to be her dad. I did not know if it was a boy or girl, black or white, or how many people there were. The child first asked me if I knew Jesus, and we got into a very sweet Christian conversation, occasionally with her theme being prompted by the male, perhaps a pastor; I don’t know. One thing the man said was “I told her she could do it this time,” letting me know that the child was a little girl, I’m thinking maybe eight years old. She asked if I believed Jesus could heal my eyes and after I said “yes,” she proceeded to ask if she could pray for me. All I know is the little child’s sweet and innocent hands were laid on top of my head as she prayed from her heart and I forgot I was sitting at a table in public. All I know is that when her prayer was done and I blinked my eyes, still not able to see her, it made me very sad. For a long time I worried about her faith. Now, I already know mine sometimes isn’t even as big as that mustard seed Jesus talks about, but it bothered me for quite a while about hers being shaken because a dramatic healing didn’t take place right then and there at the Cracker Barrel. It almost made me very sad, as we started back toward Raleigh, but then a hail storm surrounded our car and other cars on the highway and seemed to follow us all the way to Raleigh, so I forgot all about the incident for a while.

 

 This week I have found myself thinking of those sweet little hands and that precious child’s believing heart. It’s so important  what we say to other people, especially children,  and all I can do is believe God had his own purpose in that meeting. For a hundred times I have thought:  “I should have said,” knowing that if I should have said anything God would have put the words in my head then, not several days later.

 

As a teenager and young wife when people asked if they could pray for me I usually answered:  “No, I’m fine.” Eventually I added a “thank you” to my response. I could see much better then, not perfect but certainly better. It’s interesting to me how through the years of life my heart has grown into a place of more tolerance of those kinds of events and my “thank you” has become more genuine. Who knows, one of these days I might even open my eyes and see that even a messy house is beautiful. My daddy’s mom who I called Mammaw had cataract surgery in her old age. It was funny when she began telling all of us how fat we were.

 

To me the most important thing is that I am content in my circumstance and if it should cause anyone to suddenly be thankful they can see maybe that’s someone I should be praying for. In the meantime, today is the first day of spring and it’s beauty is surely as real inside my heart as it is everywhere. Let’s all enjoy it together wherever we are and whatever the circumstance or task at hand might be around us. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TBT DREAMING BACKWARD

TBT   dreaming Backward

 

Once you are past your twenties, or sixties, can you ever recapture some of that feeling you had as a teen … on a really good day? One of the easiest ways I know to do it is through music.

 

I was twenty-two when the Beach Boys sang “When I Grow up to be a Man.” Some of the girls at the Y.W.C.A. and I laid on the roof in the summer sun, lathered with baby oil and Coppertone. I have since paid for all that fun in the sun with several basal cell cancers, but that day with the radio blasting and the DJ reminding us constantly “to turn so you won’t burn,” truly growing up was the last thing on our minds. We all had dates and we all enjoyed that feeling of looking in the mirror feeling like beauty queens, knowing our clothes fit well, our smiles were golden and we were flying in our heads to Cinderella’s ball. As I showered, singing “When I Grow UP to be a Man,” to the top of my lungs, it never occurred to me that four of my friends were listening until I reached to grab my towel and cold water balloons flew at me as though they had minds of their own. 

 

“We don’t think so, Myra,” they sang to me while they squealed and ran, probably wondering what crazy stunt I might think of to get back at them.

 

But I had no time for pranks just then because I was going to live out a dream. A special friend had asked me if I were able to see perfectly, what would be the first thing I wanted to do. Silly 22-year-old said: “I’d find a light blue Thunderbird convertible and drive it so fast the wind couldn’t even catch me.” Often I dreamed this dream, driving with the top down and feeling my hair fly toward the sky and me seeing the whole world at one time.

 

I will never know where he found a light blue Thunderbird, and I will never forget the gesture he made toward trying to make my dream happen, even though he refused to let me drive it totally by myself.   …

 

And the Beach Boys still sing into that memory, this time “Fun, Fun, Fun.”

 

So people move away and lives change, and it’s all a little crazy now, yet I smile into those songs and watch the flowers go by, and take a little time to pick just one to put in the bouquet of the dreams of my memory.

 

 

 

 

MUST BE SOMETHING IN THE WATER

 

 

 

First I apologize for my inattentiveness to the blog these past few months. Somehow it seems that days can be so ordinary that there’s not anything happening worth writing about, or else I’ve been concentrating on future books.

 

Friday night I watched “the Miracle Worker” for about the fiftieth time. I don’t really get into the movie until the end, and yet I watch the entire movie in order to participate fully in the passion of the emotional discovery, when Helen Keller learns her first word, “water.” It’s so hard to understand fully the joy that must have run through her emotions, yet she then had to learn all her words in Braille and became an excellent speaker and writer. With things like that going on in our world surely none of our days should be “just” ordinary. There are so many more ways to teach deaf/blind people now with all the knowledge and technology out there, yet how special it is to watch them be able to communicate.

 

In the past few weeks I have been teaching blind people the iPhone and/or iPad. I figured they’d just pick it up in a day or two and off they’d go. How difficult it is to remember the hours I spent learning, earning, learning, and still find myself asking more questions as new upgrades come along. Yet one day a girl stood up and clapped her hands and laughed when she realized that in her small hands she held an open door to do some things she had never thought possible. Frankly I’m not a good teacher; you can’t teach one of these devices in ten hours. I think it took me ten hours to figure out how to get my iPhone on wifi back in 2008.

 

And then I think of that word “water.” How significant one word can be. In my book “Changing Places” I wrote a segment about my first drink of water from a fountain instead of our country pumps and wells. As that water gurgled down the drain I knew that the things I was used to doing in the country would be changed forever. My mind almost felt it in a tangible way just as Helen Keller knew the tangible things that she touched had meaning in her mind.

 

No day is ordinary. Today I suffer with a horrid virus, a very painful sty, and it hurts to cough. Next week I’ll be blogging again, but right now I am going to bed once I hook up my iPhone and get my last bottle of WATER.

 

 

THOUGHTS

 

It seems that books, speeches and such are made up of constructive well-developed thoughts, while often my blogs are stream of consciousness nonsense. I surely hope they never come up with a mind-reading machine because my mind would probably blow it up. So, for the past five days while being forced to stay inside because of the winter weather I decided to try to remember what I thought most about every day.

 

Friday:  “DO they really think it’s going to snow six inches?”  “They are way too sure of themselves; I’ll believe it when I see it.” “Glad I don’t have to run to the store for milk, bread or eggs.” “There’s the rain.” “I’d better see if I can find something on Netflix because all these people on TV can talk about is the weather.”

 

Saturday:  “Where’s the snow?” “My back door is frozen shut.” I took Vivi out and I walked around to the back door to see if I could push it open. Vivi stood on the front porch looking at the white mixed bag of precipitation and daring me to make her put her feet, much less her bottom,  on that cold ground. My neighbor in the town home next to me came out and cleaned off his porch, steps and sidewalk. My spirit fell when I realized he was not going to step about ten steps over and clean mine. I settled down for a long winter’s nap but decided to get acquainted with my new Apple TV, a special gift from some special friends over the holidays. This caused me to smile and not care that I was housebound and would not get out my front door for days to come. I watched “The Sound of Music” for about the fiftieth time and for the fiftieth time wondered if it was going to end right.

 

Sunday:  I watched the live message from my church and got upset with myself for having been so grumpy. I made a pot of vegetable soup and watched “the Sound of Music” for the fifty-first time and wondered for the fifty-first time if it was going to end right.

 

Monday:  “Vacuum, here I come.” Left-over veggie soup for lunch. “Bathrooms, get ready for the smell of cleaners because here I come.” Grilled cheese for dinner. “Well, the bathrooms and vacuuming can wait until tomorrow.” Turned on the Apple TV and there was no picture on the movie I was going to watch. I called the AppleCare accessibility line and the guy could not understand how I could see there was no picture on the TV but could see the apple when the TV came on. Me either, but as I was playing around while he was trying to figure it out the picture came on. After the movie I watched an old rerun of “The Dick Van Dyke Show” which I have seen at least fifty times. It was still funny.

 

Tuesday: “I thought it was going to be 40 degrees today. There’s nothing dripping like melting snow outside.” “Bathrooms, here I come,” and I did. “Vacuum you may as well wait until tomorrow because it’s going to be nothing but muddy outside if it ever gets up to 40 degrees.” Late in the afternoon I went down my front steps standing up for the first time since Friday.

 

Bored yet? I know if my cousin from Chicago reads this he’ll think I’m a total idiot for thinking six inches is anything to gripe about. He’d be right. But actually what is such a phenomenon over these five days is not what I thought about at all, but what I didn’t think about … blindness.

 

And this blog ends up being another one of my reasons for starting it in the first place, to show how a blind person lives in a sighted world. Blindness never crossed my mind but twice, once when my neighbor didn’t clear my sidewalk and when I called the AppleCare accessibility line. It’s always a blessed day when we can forget that we may have some limitations, and of course these thoughts if strung together would be less than a minute of my time. So many wasted thoughts, yet when you use them to see something worthwhile they can become constructive after all … at least as long as BlogSpot hasn’t changed their formatting page again.

THANKSGIVING THOUGHTS

 

I believe that the Jesus who loved me in my childhood when I did not know what a “sin” was is the same Jesus who loves me in my older age even though I have learned, and sometimes sin anyway.

 

I can no longer see the blooms open on my Christmas cactus and thought about it this morning. It still blooms whether anyone sees it or not. Then there are the times I crawl around on the floor looking for something dropped or clean up a spill and realize a smile from my knees is, like my cactus, seen somewhere.

 

If each kindness shown to me was represented by a light on my Christmas tree I’d need to light up every tree in every forest. I believe if everything I did for someone else was shining with a light it might be pretty dark.

 

Sometimes I plan to experiment by taking food I want to eat and don’t need and put it in a certain place just to see how long it would take me to make a week’s amount of meals for an entire family of four; four days? Three? Will I ever do it?

 

Today I passed by a tree filled with birds all making sounds like Alfred Hitchcock’s movie. Have you ever wondered what might remind someone of you?

 

What was that thing you meant to make a note about so you would not forget it?

 

This may not sound like a Thanksgiving poem, but wanted to be more subtle and hope we can look a little deeper, feel thanks more deeply, try harder, forgive longer, smile more, give freely, love better, and communicate with Jesus even when no one sees.

 

 

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!

 

Eight years ago when Mom turned eighty-eight she had her first birthday party. She had never before been dressed in absolutely everything new including her jewelry or at least, not any time that she could remember. It can be a little difficult for an adult child to picture her mom as a girl, yet I can. I see her with her dark hair skating through the streets of Lexington like I used to skate through the sidewalks of my school, only my mom had a twin who skated with her.  I can imagine her getting a new pair of skates every Christmas as she said they did, skates and maybe a new doll, and stockings with fruits, nuts and candy. I can imagine her and her sister, my and Larry’s Aunt Jan giggling as they teased teachers and even their dates as to which one was which.  I can even feel a little sorry for their other sister, my and Larry’s Aunt Evelyn. Mom said the two of them would back each other up in case someone did something wrong, always saying it was Evelyn causing any problem that came up.

But mostly I see her as a wife and mother. There were times when we were young that she and Daddy laughed and kissed and daddy teased her until we couldn’t decide if she was laughing or crying. Some nights I think of her and almost hear her singing with the radio, especially early in the mornings when she thought I was asleep. There is no Christmas carol sung anywhere as beautiful as her voice singing with the radio, or the surprise in her voice when I found a record of “Silver Bells” Daddy had hidden as a surprise for her in 1951.

She told me about the days of the Second World War and how everybody went crazy with joy the day it ended, and how her brother fought on D Day. One time she even told me about their little sister, Christine, who had died at nine months of age, and how she still remembered holding her on the porch swing.

So many memories she carries inside her head now and I wish I had recorded some of those talks. I would encourage everyone to keep a journal of sorts or write a book like I did and embarrass their children one day.

However, today Mom turns NINETY-SIX! I wish she felt like having another birthday party, but am thankful she’s around to celebrate in her own comfortable way.

It would mean a lot to me, and to her, if some of you who were at that party would remember her this day and week and let her know she is as loved now as she was that special night that still means so much to her. If you still are fortunate enough to have your mom close by, even as close as a facebook post, send her a special hug just because you love her and that will help me celebrate Mom’s day too.

 

Happy birthday Geneva Yarborough! Mom!