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Blinded |
The sun was brightly shining in majesty. The soft touch of the wind caused goosebumps to suddenly appear on my skin. I did not have to try to check them with my eyes; I knew, by the tingling sensation, that they did exist. I could hear the sound of children playing nearby. They sounded as though they were having the time of their lives.
"Hey, look what I found, Mommy," a little girl called to her mother.
"Elizabeth, don’t touch that!" I heard her swat the child’s hand. As the girl began to cry, the mother explained, "That is not something you should be playing with. That’s cat poopoo."
A young boy began laughing at his sister’s innocence.
I grinned at the newfound knowledge. I would have loved to see the whole ordeal, but that was not possible. How I longed for eyes that could see.
When I was a child, I had gone riding horses with my father. This was something I’d always wanted to do and dad blessed me with the opportunity. Everything was serene until lighting thundered to the ground, startling the horse. The poor creature bucked and knocked me in front of him. Another flash and pound of thunder caused the horse to lose its mind. It got on its hind legs and began kicking with its front. It accidentally slammed its foot into my head. I blacked out, never to wake again. That is kind of how it felt when I regained consciousness and could not see my dad. Daddy’s little girl was hurt and he wanted to blame himself. I know it wasn’t his doing. Taking me riding was one of the best things he could have done for me. That day was one of the happiest days and one of the saddest.
"Mommy, Timmy’s drinking all of the drink," the girl cried to her mom.
"Timmy, share with your sister," the mother commanded.
"Your turn," the boy responded, handing his sister the drink.
After a few sips were heard, the boy regained the drink and resumed guzzling.
"Mommy, he’s drinking it all," the girl whined.
"Timothy, I told you to share with your sister. If you don’t share, you won’t have anything to drink. You hear me?" the mother corrected.
"Yes, ma’am," he reluctantly submitted.
I looked into the sun. Its brilliance was evident by the plethora of colors and shades of light. The dancing colors seemed to express themselves in the form of a kaleidoscope. Swigles and blotches of light mingled with each other to display crude images, but images none the less. I could see the bodies of two children form briefly before morphing into abstract art.
Suddenly, someone collided with my left leg, throwing me off-balance. I began to wobble, weakly supporting myself with my cane.
The small boy gasped at the recognition of his sin. "I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see you."
"Don’t worry about it," I informed him, thinking of the irony of the situation. I was blind and could see the boy. He could see, yet did not see me.
"I’m sorry, ma’am. He never watches where he goes," the mother explained.
As I looked towards the voice, I was startled with the realization that I could discern the color of her face.
"Are you all right?" she questioned.
"Yes, thank you. You children are beautiful," I responded.
"Thank you."
"Tell me hon," I began, "There is something special about you. What is it?"
"I don’t know…"
"Of course, you do."
"My husband, my kids, my family… I don’t know. I’m pretty ordinary."
"There is something different about you…something special about your family."
"I’m not sure what you are talking about, ma’am."
"When I looked towards you, I could see color. You see," my eyes began to swell with tears, "I am blind. I have not been able to see since I was a young one. Now, I am late in years and have tried to cope. Yet, a moment ago, I could see the color of your face. You may think it silly, but I know better. I have lived in darkness all of my life, light my only sight. I pray you: Tell me what is different about you?"
She was quiet as I felt her skeptical eyes pierce my heart. "Ma’am, I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about."
A horn sounded as a care pulled up.
"Daddy!" the little girl exclaimed as she ran towards the sound of the horn.
"Well, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you," the lady excused herself as she left.
After they were gone, I sat down at a nearby bench. It was getting hot. I was extremely hot; I felt like I was burning alive. Sweat poured over my body as a hand clenched my heart and stopped its beating. I found it harder and harder to breathe as the light of the sun faded away in a second’s notice.
…
I woke up in a stranger’s bed. I was wearing foreign clothes.
"She’s awake," I heard a voice say.
"Ms. Down, how are you feeling?" another voice questioned.
I tried to say I was feeling all right, but realized, I only had partial control of my tongue. I felt myself salivate of my chin as I tried to speak.
"Ms. Down, you had heart attack. It looks like you had a seizure too. We have some stuff we can do to try to help you regain all of your abilities. With your consent, we can try this stuff first thing tomorrow morning."
I nodded my head.
"This is Mary, she will be your nurse. If you need anything, let her know and she will take care of you." The doctor left the room.
"I’m Mary, Ms. Down, as Dr. James mentioned. If you need anything, push this button," she moved my hand to where a button rested. "I’ve got several people I will be taking care of, so I’ll be moving in and out. Push that button if you need anything."
I nodded as she walked from the room.
Another pair of footsteps entered the room.
"Ms. Down, it is Father Michael. I wanted to let you know that I am here for you if you need anything. If you would like any prayers or anything, I will be available."
I nodded as I heard him sit down somewhere.
Then, I was blinded with a bright light. A group of footprints entered the room.
"I’m glad you could make it," I said without flaw or slobber.
"Us?" the voice replied.
"You are the mother of the two children at the park, right?"
"How did you know it was us? I thought you were blind?"
"Would you pray for me, please?" I asked.
I heard the priest rise from his seat. "Excuse me, Ms. Down wants me to pray with her."
"Sorry, Father Michael, but I want them to pray for me."
"What? Are you sure? I am your priest. These people are strangers."
"Please leave us, kind sir"
I felt a rush of wind caress my skin as he left the room.
"Please pray for me," I asked the family.
The husband began to pray. I felt authority in his words as he spoke. Some of what he said, I could not discern but I felt something rush over me as he prayed.
"Sorry, folks, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave," Mary entered the room with another pair of footsteps beside her.
"Please don’t," I pleaded.
Suddenly, as I lay on the bed, I felt a shiver from my head to my toes and I looked towards the light. As if by supernatural means, I jerked from my rested state and for the first time in a long time, woke up. Beside me were the mother and father and two children. In the doorway, were Mary and Father Michael.
"I can see! Dear Lord, I can see!" I screamed as tears poured from my cheeks. For the first time since I was a little girl, I could see.
"Guys, I don’t know what you are trying to pull here, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. This lady is from my church and I would like some time to talk to her," the priest insisted.
"Father Michael, I apologize for any heartache I may cause, but I want you to leave. I’m going to church with them," I informed the unenlightened man.
The man of the cloth grunted and turned his back to me as he stormed out one final time. You can tell a tree by the fruit it bears. Sometimes, the fruit is not shown until you are able to see with true eyes. Many times, people take for granted truth and their experience with God. However, their light can still be seen. Where light is, darkness cannot exist. For the sake of other blinded people, don’t let you light be hidden.
