Dropping in on Blindness

I'm still putting in anti-inflammatory eye drops four times daily since my laser eye surgery last Friday, but today I got busy and missed a dose. You wouldn't think it would be so easy to forget since I try to do it around meal time and then once at bedtime. Especially as important as it is to keep down any inflammation in my eyes following the surgery for glaucoma.

It says in the directions to gently close your eyes for five minutes after putting in the drop. Even that has been hard. Sometimes I have purposely tried to continue doing things with my eyes closed, just to see how it would feel if I couldn't see. It's a harsh reminder of how valuable my eyesight is. It's not a welcome thought.

But then it also reminds me of how my mother lost her sight over the course of several years. She was often discouraged about her fate, and I tried to lift her spirits every time I took her to the eye doctor for another useless appointment. Hope kept her going, but it was faith that made her strong.

This topic of blindness always hits me on Tuesdays, the day I volunteer as a book narrator for Christian Record Services. Ironically, my sessions are cut short due to my breathing problems, not my eyesight. But some day, who knows? God has a plan. I'm just here to live it for Him.

Getting My Voice Back

I was flattered when the studio director at Christian Record Services called me recently to ask if I'd like to start narrating again, after a winter off. After a couple of tries, I guess I'm back on the volunteer reader list. I've always enjoyed reading to children in my classes, so I just pretend I'm reading to a group of eager young listeners, even though the setting is more like a professional radio broadcasting studio.

It's been a mystery to me how people can say they like the sound of my voice on their audio books. I have a couple of blind friends who have told me they enjoy my reading, but I question whether they are saying it just to make me feel good.

Calvin, the studio director, explained to me that we always sound different to ourselves, because we are hearing through our own ears and heads, from the inside out, not the outside in. Our heads evidently have a way of cushioning or insulating our voice, giving it a different sound than others hear.

I'm thankful there is a God who hears us, both inside and out, and loves us anyway. Now that's the real mystery.

 (See  www.christianrecord.org to help the blind have Christian reading materials.)