My daughter went blind and deaf this past fall. It is a steep learning curve for our entire entire family to figure out how to operate under this new reality.
Doctors say her sensory loses should be “temporary,” but no one knows what that means. We are past both “days” and “weeks” and are hoping for resolution in “months” rather than “years.”
In the midst of this huge unknown, we press on to forge a new normal within these parameters. One interesting experience has been cleaning.
We are trying to give R as much adult-like freedom as possible, so we allow her fairly unlimited use of the kitchen. We strive to hang back and just stay ready to jump in to help prevent injuries, watching intensely when fire or sharp objects are involved.
Bless her heart, our girl truly does try hard to fully clean up her messes. But I am currently spending 2-3 hours every 4 or 5 days, deep cleaning all she has missed because she could not see, nor hear verbal instruction about messes.
When I try to explain what R is missing, there are many tears, usually some anger, and we have to wrestle through self worth and belief that she feels we don’t think she is “good enough.” We had a long “chat” (in addition to hand-spelling everything, a friend recently discovered she can feel word vibration patterns through bone conducting head phones, with a fair level of accuracy when we speak slow and concise, so we can now use the telephone as another tool) last night, so hopefully the kitchen will get easier on both of us! It is so hard to express what needs to happen without hurting her in the process!
Since going blind, yellow has become R’s favorite color. In her memory, her mind’s eye, it is “the color of happiness.” She asks the color of nearly every object she encounters, and if something is yellow, she is delighted.
She was given some lemony yellow towels for her 16th birthday last month. They are a very light in shade, like butter, but bright in intensity, like sunshine.
Within a couple of weeks, her new towels were stained with streaks of black eyeliner, all colors of eye shadow, flesh-toned makeup, and more. I tried not to let it bother me, but it made me very sad.
So I said many prayers and dug out every stain treatment product buried in the dark recesses of my laundry room cupboards. While I did discuss using clean towels only on already fully clean bodies, I decided this specific issue did not need to turn into a confrontation that would make her feel inadequate. I quietly set to work, hopeful that I could at least improve all but her washcloth (that seems utterly unrecoverable).
After much effort, her entire set of bath towel, hand towel, and even wash cloth now are stain-free and look brand new again. R never need know what her inability to detect towel stains truly costs me.
It is that way with God. There are times His gentle corrections hurt and feel suffocating, leaving us feeling less than. We are doing our best yet feel like all those “shall nots” that trip us up are only meant to tear us down.
What we cannot see is all we are spiritually blinded toward, ignorant about. We do not know all the times and ways God is working behind the scenes to accomplish our freedom.
Right now we see darkly [reference] but one day our joy will be complete as we see Jesus in all His glory. Just as I will delight in fighting to keep those towels looking new until R can see them for herself for the first time, our LORD takes great measures to bring us good gifts [reference].