Tag: retinitis pigmentosia

Shadows Dispel

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“…shadows dispeling with joy I am telling, He made all the darkness depart…Heaven Came Down and Glory Filled My Soul!”

Darkness Closes In-and I wonder just how much longer. How long, O Lord? I miss so many cute little things that the kids do. Unless I sit still and literally stare at them, I don’t see there little faces that they make. I wonder so and struggle to recognize faces because I see the backs of their little heads and miss all of their other happenings.

I even miss looking at my husband’s face. I’m about to set up the table so that we have to face each other.

Becoming…. This word keeps echoing in my head and heart. As human beings we spend so much of our time “doing.” Just being is left totally he end of our days. We rarely think of what we are becoming. The other thought I have is how “becoming” was a word once used to express the beauty of the Lord’s touch upon a person. Some people are so enamored with “handsome” features that they will not look upon a lowly person or one of less stature in the becoming realm.

Once upon a time I met someone whome others thought of as less becoming than others. I remember getting to know this person and thinking how much she displayed the “character of Christ” in her life. She seemed to me the most beautiful soul that ever I had met. Yet many people would not even visit with her for her looks were not pleasant. One time I read a writer use the words “ the smile of the homely can radiate the Lord’s beauty more than the most handsome in their sour disposition.” Indeed.

Real and Truly Me… When do I feel the most authentic me that God has made me to be. Three examples are all that I have to share.

The first is when I am playing piano and it truly becomes “play.” Like when my sister tried to play some song that she worked much of her high school piano lessons to learn. Then I sat down and began playing it in it’s entirety. For the life of me I can’t recall the huymn at this moment. But the sense of who I am and who God is making me to be while I played that song completely out of no memory work or previous practice. That was ME. (I never meant it to be boastful by any means… just the nature of God enabling me to play piano.) Some will say I am gifted. Maybe.

The second example I can give is when my grand kids are searching for a moment of entertainment and I get to impart “Imagination” to them. Like the day my oldest grand daughter was so hungry she began whining for snack nearly a half hour before her mommy was ready to find one. So

Who I am… when it’s dark and I’m struggling to find the children in the room and Yolanda’s house. The sense of fear that crouches nearby to disuade me from enjoying what I hear while I struggle to see the silouette fo some child.I began imagining with her. I am so so hungry that “I am an Eagle flying over a river with no fish.” I am so hungry I am a bear with no berries on the bushes. I am so hungry I am mouse in the cupboard with no crumbs. Finally she said “I am so hungry I am a cheetah with no chips to eat.” I clapped for her. Good job! That’s much better than whining for fifteen minutes. And now mommy is ready

The third example I can give is when I am in the greenhouse planting up plants. The enjoyment that I experience is never ending. And I forget about time and all else. I could stay in the greenhouse for hours. When I don’t get my “time” in there, I soon get cranky and wonder what I am experiencing. So It’s time to get back to the escape room. Taking the dog is not an escape. I wish he would just lay down and behave himself instead of trying to get my attention by being naughty. There are days I want to just go there and forget the rest of the world even is happening.

The disgust at myself when I see one more container in the flower bed that needs to be picked up and returned to the greenhouse. Full irritation when I hit my ring finger and break a blood vessel right in the joint. Ouch. And the fear I have when I begin walking while on the phone… should I even be moving right now! And there are times when I have crashed over something while on the phone. Concentration is what it takes to move anywhere. Is this still real and truly me when I am in my full struggle mode?

When are you most your self? It might feel really hard to recognize ME unless we take a full video of some situation. It is amazing how life’s happenings color our world and our perception of self. Ask “Do others see me in the same way that I see me?” Probably not. Introspection is not the same as analytical evaluation is it?

I John 1:5 “This is the message we have heard from Him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all.”

Surrender

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Proverbs 17:1 “Better is a dry morsel with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting with anguish and strife.”

Surrender. A word one often associates with unique circumstances. Surrender your will. Surrender your hopes and dreams. Surrender your dog. Something I never thought that I would do.

The past month my life felt like anguish and strife constantly. Peace had so far eluded me that even night time was a battle for sleep. It took me over six weeks to discover the true problem.

The source of strife can be so elusive sometimes. She wanders away just when you think peace and enjoyment is about to be yours, strife strikes once again. The amount of strength and energy that it requires to strive after this constant battle is exhausting.

About a month ago, our Honey Doodle started to be bored and listless. She took the energy out of me just looking at her. Finally on Saturday morning the rope snapped. She had left me to do my watering and ran off to roll in something dead once again. My energy level was already zapped by allergies and asthma from the morning dew. I had just finished a phone call with my daughter. In my duty I reached to grab the frisbee and toss it for an attentive dog, only to smell that horrible stench. I snapped.

After about five minutes of being controlled by my anger, I collected Kona from his “little horse trailer” outdoor crate, and went into the house. My first call was my husband. I let him know what happened, that I had snapped, and that I was officially DONE.

My second call was to my sister to help get me down out of my anger volcano. The lava was everywhere. There was no turning back. I had spent six years trying to be a “strong” personality with this doodle dog and I could no longer do it. Being strong voiced, commanding and boisterous is not WHO I am. My energy level is minimal. I can not run six miles every day with a golden doodle. And that is what she needs.

Even throwing the frisbee for twenty minutes three times a day was not enough. She required more than I can give. My thought process included wondering if I could take care of Kona in the next ten years. I had not even been thinking that Honey was the source of my energy drain.

This morning when I heard the preacher on the radio talking about this Proverb, I was amazed at it’s timing. Does God really care that my dog and I did not get along? Does God know how sorry I really am that she was not the right fit for me and my anger was so easily roused by her every behavior?

I read the book last year about “Dog Mirrors” and how Honey was just being the mirror of my inner turmoil. Honestly there are some ways that may be true. Like my anxiety when going outdoors has been rather high this past two months. The allergies and asthma that drain my energy make me constantly wonder if the asthma will let me get back to the house before “black out” time. Well, I know she read anxiety as “anxious activity” and became more agitated and moved more herself.

Like when it was time to go somewhere and I was looking for my things, she would jump up and get RIGHT in the way. Her movements would always be just a few steps in from of me making me more and more agitated because she would block my way, block my view, or keep me from finding my shoes. It was SO NOT HELPFUL. And always made me more aggravated and I could never get her to STAY in one spot until I was ready.

Here’s a note if you are ever around a visual impaired person-Stop moving around all the time. If you can’t sit still to carry a conversation, don’t be friends with a peripherally challenged individual. I knew a gal one time that wanted to be helpful to me, but whenever we were together she behaved just like Honey. Always moving and I could never decipher where she was going to sit next. Rather than sitting in one chair and visiting, it’s like she was a honey bee checking the nectar level of every chair in my living room. I did not invite her back into my life.

So now that the dry morsel is peaceful to eat… shall we move on?

Surrendering my dog was not something I ever had in mind when I got that dog. But I am not the right fit. She is too exuberant in her greetings to strangers and I have NO CONTROL over her bad manners when people come to visit. Of course I haven’t much control over Charlie either, but he does not zoom around like his pants are on fire when someone comes to the acreage either. And he is very treat motivated. Cookies work to get him to come to me.

This week should be much more peaceful. As soon as I get to the chiropractor to fix all the things out in my back and shoulders from her bad behavior Saturday morning.

Kona looking out the window the day after

When I left her on Saturday, I felt like some great weight had been lifted from my back. We will have a few things to adjust to in the house or outside, but already I prefer the quieter life.

Excuse Me, You’re In My Blindspot: Kona’s Journal

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“Yet it was kind of you to share my troubles.” —Phil. 4:14 ESV

T shirts with attitude sayings are not particularly my thing. But this one should be part of my wardrobe as there are so many times that I run into people without meaning to. Even today I used a more polite “excuse me” as we were out and about shopping. But the biggest issue today was my poor little doggy.

I know that I have anxiety, but today it was challenged to the point of panic driven behavior. Just afternoon about one o’clock I took the dogs out for a stroll outside to find a couple items. We walked quite a bit from building and finally after the mail. On the way back from the mailbox, Charlie put Zucchi, the cat, up the ash tree. It was sort of funny. Then we came back into the house.

I was eating my snack and drink and not paying attention to the puppy when suddenly it dawned on me that he was not nearby. Immediately I began calling his name and got no response. “Kona Come!” So anxiety kicked in and I began looking everywhere in the house for him. (So I thought.). The behind the doors, under the beds, behind the sofa and in my search I noticed the front screen door was slightly ajar. The warm-ish weather always makes the frame swell and it has to be pulled shut to latch.

My brain said, he’s not in the house, he must have slipped outside. The first few minutes outside started the “baffled” feeling. Where was Kona? To me he was lost, hung up on the short leash that I had left on him. After fifteen minutes outside, I panicked. Literally. I was a hot mess.

Lost puppy is not how I expected the day to happen. And valentine’s day at that. A few phones calls, constant searching, lots of walking. I was trying not to trip in my tear induced state. Where was my puppy? To me, he was lost.

Blind Lady Trial number 3, 429 was in full scale. How in the world could I be trusted with the care of anything? Apparently a little black puppy had done me in. I was now a complete wreck. Gavin came home with the truck and the dog in the house barked. Honey had been in the house because I had a neighbor helping me look outside and she was just in the way. Then he heard another tell tale bark.

Searching through the house, he found the little black Shih Tzu wrapped up around the chair and the piano bench legs. The leash that I had left on the collar did get stuck on something. And yes, he was wrapped up around some major sticks (of furniture). He was stuck enough not to respond to my calls.

Why had he not barked ever for me? Why had he not answered me with a bark or whine? I know he’s a quiet little puppy most of the time but this was a bit much. Perhaps he had tried to get unstuck and only made the collar tighter so that he could not bark. Obviously he had hidden there to chew on a little twig or something. But really? Excuse me puppy, but you were in my blind spot. I had even looked under the piano bench. But not under that chair as he had never gone under the chair before.

“I’m sorry you lost your puppy.” This was little Melody a few hours later when we dropped off an item or two at her house. Who had told her, we don’t know. But the tears in her eyes were as real as the tears that I had shed earlier. She wanted assurance that all of the puppies and kitties that we had were okay. Honey? She’s in the pickup with Kona. Charlie? He’s home in his hut. The kittens? They are all in their little houses. Okay. Okay!

This past evening we put an Air Tag on the dog’s collar. Yes we did the research, and decided the benefits outweigh any risk. The Air tag is in a silicone case on his collar. And it is the cheapeast piece that we could do for peace of mind. Philipians 4 has much advice for us who suffer anxiety. Verse six and verse 13 tell us to put anxious thoughts in their corret place and do things in the strength of our Lord. But I am loving verse 14 right now. “Yet it was kind of you to share our troubles.”

Well, I boiled that cup of tea a bit strong. And I did not do so well on hunting for a new harness for him either. I neglected the fact that we have to pick him up to get in and out of the truck. The harness was an H style without a chest to girth support. He has to have the X style, even if it is not the step in. Though I think he likes the step in, he’s pretty quick at “Buckle Up!” So I am back to the drawing board on a new harness. Bugger. The Step in X is the best style for smaller dogs so that they cannot excape. The one I ordered had the x over the top not under the girth. Bother.

Blind lady issues will be part of my life going forward. I have RP or retinitis pigmentosia. Loosing things is part of my life. Like the other day when I spent all day looking for my woolen homespun crocheted hat. It was on the table full of what nots! We just have to find the right tools to help me in my “trade.” One of our recent purchases was a talking thermometer. That was very helpful when I had my ear infection. Another recent purchase was the cup full meter. It beeps much like the back-up alarm on the truck. Closer. Closer okay over filled! I use it daily multiple times. And I don’t even poor my dark drink into a dark cup!

Unfortunately I can’t wear an Air Tag or a too close meter for people when I am out and about. Can you imagine the alarm going off constantly because someone is in my blind spot? The nerve of people to get close enough that my alarm might go off. Spacial awareness is not the God given gift of everyone in the world. Some of us are visually challenged. The other day while picking up the puppy and “bed” at my daughter’s house I knocked over the oldest grand child because I did not know that she was in RANGE. Oops. Much apologies later, I was back in route to my destination. Yep, I’m blind. Sorry little girly! Too close meter might not have even worked in that situation.

Summer Heat

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The weeding has kept me out of my library this summer. Maybe I care more about my flowers this year, or maybe my priorities changed. Writing has not been at the top of the list.

I was not even making a to do list for each week as it seemed the list was monotonous. Weed, water, weed, dead-head geraniums, start over. I also was trying to pay more attention to the pet bonding and make sure someone was not being picked on. Unfortunately, Charlie has decided that because Crush runs, Crush should be chased. Poor old Tom cat. Actually, I don’t feel sorry for him. Only enough to tell Charlie to “leave it!”

We lost three pets this year, Autumn, Eva and Cocoa. That is nothing in comparison to my cousin loosing her mother. I think I wrote a blog once about my Aunties. And my Aunt MaryLou and I had so very much in common. We just seemed to “get” each other even though some in the family did not get her. We could talk so easily about just any thing. We both had her mother’s eyesight disease. We both had two daughters. We both had intensely funny husbands. We both loved reading. We both loved ALL kinds of music. We both loved to talk about the little people in our lives. I just can’t imagine how her close family will live without her. But they were blessed to watch her grace and poise during her last years of painful living. Knowing that she is no longer in pain helps some.

My allergies have been somewhat more in the “controlled” state. Another reaction to bread that was “tainted” with barley has kept me away from the slices. So far the wraps that we buy have been okay for me. I had a close call the other night choosing gluten free wrap only to find out that most of the time they use potato in the dough. Real close!

Today is the hottest day of the year, maybe… I think they said the head index has it over 100 degrees. The breeze is generous and feels lovely. Though I am not working in the heat, I still am trying to get outside and soak up the warm. The bitter winter wind will be extra harsh this winter when I look back and think about today. It’s crazy how the flowers, the tomatoes, and the zuchini love the heat. What a lovely surprise to walk into the greenhouse and see one of the Amaryllis in full bloom.

The west Fig tree in the greenhouse is doing well. I have made fig preserve three times already. It is worse than candy. So addicting. We eat it with graham crackers. I have not made bars yet. There just never seems to be any left after I fill a couple of jars. OOPS!

One baby blanket this summer is completed. Probably won’t start another until fall weather. I am still enjoying making the back pack bags. A few dishcloths found their way off the hook. I have yarn for a few other projects, but all is too hot for this time of year.

Meanwhile, the back walkway past the propane was getting to be a tripping hazard, so I picked it all up and laid out some brick edgers to contain the wood cookies. Yes, I know not the best idea to have such a “flammable” path next to the propane tank. But I am using what works for me, what is cheap (except for hubby’s labor) and what I have. Several how to vid’s showed mixing up crete or mortar and pouring in when the chips are are down. Will see how permanent that would be, so probably just doing the chips again.

We have a few other projects of clean up nature and just putt-zing around the acreage. This will be kind of a forever thing. Kind of like how owning a house is always some maintenance project or another. Right now it’s the overgrown cucumber patch that is keeping me overwhelmed. So here I go to cut up some more veggies.

Out of sight, out of … hands

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Version 2.0 on the “out of sight” installments. Last one was just onee year ago on January of 2021. Perhaps I am getting closer to a title for my book. Haha

Out of min…

Some people think that loosing one’s mind involves not being able to find the car keys. For me it was the carrot smoothie in the fridge…. I spent nearly 10 minutes trying to locate the drink. I had taken it to the library, right? No, then I went to the living room. Oh, yeah in between all that i had used the restroom. Okay, where are you little carrot smoothie? I found it in the fridge.

Some beautiful geraniums in the greenhouse. The red one in my hand has the largest blossom cluster. The pink one is so delicate in color. The two tone red heart beat geranium was nearly lost from root rot but these four remain!

Or maybe I had not lost my mind altogether. I was simply distracted. Until the book I was listening to brought up another entire area of loss that most people never think of. Gestures and facial expressions. Here’s my story and I am sticking to this one.

Out of memory…

A long time ago when I was just a teenager, I remember an incident that shook me up quite a bit. We were at one of those famouse birthday luncheons at the church where I grew up. This particualr evening, my dad was into his famous story telling moods. And whenver there was an audience to be had, he seemed to think that he was the center of everyone’s attention. So, when I ran about to fill up the coffee cups as my waitress heart deemed necessary, the next few moments were very much a tell tale of the RP digression of his eyesight.

The coffee was delivered, and the speaker was not attentive the the surroundings. I waited, and waited and waited to get his attention and let him know that the drink had been refilled. Suddenly, the story teller gave an unexpected hand gesture that upset the apple cart. But that was not even the pretty part. The surprise of the spilled beverage, the demeaning words and the angry expressions by my father in that particular setting (church) made for a memory tattooed on my hearts emotional being. Yes, the negative response is a memory somewhat repressed, but nevertheless not forgotten.

Out of words…

Years later, a friend of ours said that one’s emotional explosions and expressed words after an upset hot beverage are really what the person is really truly made of. When the coffee spills, how do we respond? Surprise and shock do not necessarily mean bad words. Sometimes, choosing words of blessing and apologetic behavior matter much. I always felt that my spilled milk was always followed by yelling and angry words. No reason to cry over spilt milk? Well, being blind and having the spills happen so frequently either makes one wise up and sue sippy cups, or find some other solution to the frequent spillages.

Out of mouths…

Dealing with an eyesight loss can mean a whole new change of character. My uncle lost an eye as a result of an unfortunate farming accident. I remember visiting with him about the changes in his life. One particular change was finding moved objects in his path with toes and shin bones rather than his eyes. Now he found himself frequently cussing and fuming. It was both exasperating to himself and to those around him. Apologizing for his surpised outbursts was becoming far to regular. Ahh, how eyesight loss changes the way we must move and the way we react to surpises. There is no more laughter at the jack-in-the-box events that happen. One soon learns to live in a constant state of tension while moving for the possibility of those awful little “weasels!”

This is the beginning of “Ellas Gems” a new pattern that I found on a social media crochet group that I belong to. BebaBlanket is the creator and I purchased as soon as I saw it released to buy! Oh, how I love something brand new!

Out of hands…

My gesture loss happened during my children’s high school years. I was done teaching club at church due to my hands constantly hitting an unsuspecting child. Pointing across the room only to poke a child in the eye was so distressing. The gesture loss was hard for me. I use to talk with my hands all the time. Who does not want to point a certain thing out while talking? This abilbity to throw my arms about during speech actually began to decrease the amount of speaking that I would do. It is really hard to stop acting out like a stage professional during a good story. But waving my hands about was not an option with the peripheral vision loss. How do I visit with others in group settings without being able to point or gesture in some common way?

The next obvious loss for me was the facial expressions and hand gestures of others in group settings. It is also hard to tell, who might want to jump into the topic next with a speech that they deem very important to give. While I may be able to view the person across the way, the others around the table disappear from my view. This might allow for greater focus, but moving my eyes around to catch the others reactions to a speaker is exhausting. This large group silence at times is really unbearable for me. Expecially when I still remember so much.

Except where my smoothie is…

It was during this loss of “circle movement” by the others in a group setting that I noticed some other things happening. More often then not, I was getting “shushed” by those around me. I had missed some conversation cue of eye, or gesture that indicated who was next in speaking. My thoughts that were so ready to blurt were getting stoppped up by those around me. This too was hard. I began to feel like certain people were treating me as if I were a misbehaving child. Becoming blind day by day, year by year does not mean that I am reverting in my behavior. Simply put, I was now out of the circle…

So now, I find myself listening more and more during group settings. When I am so desperate for interaction with people, I find that interaction being stolen by my loss of vision. The surpise of a cake plate upset on my lap or on the floor feels like a common occurrence while at family gatherings. Coupled by the deafness in my left ear, the abiltiy to even hear the oncoming delicasy, is hampered by the lack of sight. Plate on the floor. “Oh, no!” Learning to live life in a perpetual motion of “i’m sorry!” Is not very fun. Embarrassment and humility do not always gather closely. Sometimes the embarrassment is overwhelmingly sad. The feelings of loss and the inability to even help with the cleanup are so frustrating. Playing statue is not that easy!

I really don’t like surpises any more. Boo! Is not fun like the peekaboo of babies and little children. The last few times that we had Christmas present openings, I lived in a state of perpetual “what if the coffee spills?” And not knowing what was in the presents or trying to figure the item out in the semi-dark was exasperating. Having the person next to me tell me what each item was supposed to be and trying to find the right facial expression after my completely confused confoundedness was not enjoyable. I began to really dislike opening my gifts. Watching the others was somewhat more enjoyable. But oh, how I needed a little parrot on my shoulder telling me all the happenings about me. It makes one feel very alone in a crowd.

And that’s the last experience that I want to share on my way towards becoming invisible me. The last time that I went to a church event without a close family member was very painful for me. Extended family that has not grown up with a “blind father” does not really understand the needs that arise as the Retinitis Pigmentosa progresses. While I could walk a straight line down the sidewalk, I could no longer navigate a crowd of people carrying plates at a potluck. Attending the church without my husband had turned out to be a “fatal” choice for me and I had become invisible. No one in my current church was familiar with the challenges of RP and I was left sitting in a corner throughout much of the meal event. I finally left the crowd and sat in the sanctuary alone. Truly alone. My ability to “flow” through the plate bearers left me feeling very disabled. I cried without end over the potential of “spilled milk.” I called my husband, and he was able to come and pick me up. The rest of the day was spent in tears. The people that I had gone with did not understand my needs, were busy and had not ever checked on me. I felt unable to express myself and ask for help in a situation that left me feeling so invisible.

Recently I read “The Hobbit” by J.R.R. Tolkien and found it very full of forward motion. The adventures of the hobbit keep one listening just to see what happens next. In the book the discovery of a magic ring gives the little fellow the ability to become invisible and disappear from danger and tribulations. Honestly, being invisible and feeling invisble are two totally different phenomenon. Choosing to shrink from view within a public event and loosing the ability to see who all is there in the public setting are two opposing feelings. Being blind in a community setting makes everyone present invisible to the blind person. Not a very fun feeling when you walk into a group of people and all of the talking stops. This has happened to me so many times that I cannot count. I can begin to imagine however what it is like to walk into a room that feels full of people but seems empty until someone addresses my presence. My father’s ability to get the group to burst out in laughter helps to break the ice about his blindness and lets him know just how many people are really in the room. I don’t see myself ever being “on display” as that-blind-lady. I don’t see myself breading the ice with bad jokes just to count the voices of laughter within the space. i don’t see myself as others see me. I cannot.

My position in a group setting is usually at the piano with the whole commune behind me. Sometimes I wish I could turn the piano around so that the people were in front of me instead of behind me. Maybe that’s the next change in my life. For now I’ll let them see my hands while I play piano since I cannot. (P.S. My therapist said that I am not supposed to use “can’t” in my speaking or writing anymore. I asked her if she still could drive a car… I said, “I cannot.”)

Another update

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Okay now I really don’t like my word press blog site. They updated it again! AND I really hate change. The whole look and the way I want to write has been changed. So, yep I once again am completely hampered by the change.

This block editing is totally not my style. Not sure that I have a style, but this is definitely not it. I think of myself as a semi-professional writer. Maybe I am an amuteur at web paging, but writing is something I am suppose to enjoy. Insert emoji loudly screaming baby face!!!

So along with this unwelcome change, life moves on. April showers were non-existent but May flowers are still blooming. There has been some rain in the last week enough to chase the drought away. But if you dig down six inches in our garden, the soil is dry. Somehow the corn is up about 10 miles to the south of us.

We are in the middle of “Birthday Month.” And so that is keeping us busy with celebrations. It seems that in our family the spring really sprung! From March through June there are equal birthday numbers to the Octoberfest that slides into November.

Meanwhile, I hope that at some point I can get my blog set up back to what it was. (The change is permanent, so I have read.) I can’t even find how to add photos to the blog. My husband had to poke around for me and show me what to do. Nobody quite comprehends what screen changes do to someone with Retinitis Pigmentosia. Once that little curser runs away, there’s no hope of finding it again. The icon changes, and the like… well, I ought to quit my belly-aching and just write.

I am pretty excited about my upcoming logo design. I made a few contacts but so far no one has answered me. So I am patiently or not so patiently waiting. In a lot of ways, I feel like these three ladies in waiting. Haha.

Next time you see these two images, I hope to have the logo on the creamers at the greenhouse. They will sit in the rocks of the landscaping. The dairy cans are waiting for another coat of colored paint, but the weather has not been cooperating. I have the flowers for the top of them already also. Keeping them growing in the greenhouse has been enjoyable. I am aslo trying to figure out how to make the cans a bit more self-watering. They are so tall the bottom half does not even get used as a potting soil source. I will be filling them with riverrock.

Meanwhile… The garden has been all mapped out with the seedling plants in the greenhouse included in the key. There will be treasures galore as the summer comes on! I was also blessed to supply the Mother’s day plants to our church. The baby geraniums did very well. Of course those statrted in november did better than the February shoots. And I have some for myself that are taking their own sweet time at rooting out.

Well, there is my update. I am also putting together a song that I wrote based on Psalm 36. The melody is so catchy. I am always humming it.

The latest greenhouse project was the dinner-plate arrangements. Parsley, oregano, cilantro, chives, and basil work just as well in the planter as they do in the pantry. It’s crazy how seeds planted at the same time grow at different paces. It feels much like walking completely different dogs!

These pretty little geranium babies all found new homes on Mother’s Day. It was such a blessing to give them away. I only had a few left overs. Those are finding new homes this week as the days roll by. Soon the rest of the plant babies will all head out to the garden. The greenhouse will have to get it’s shade cloth on for the summer, so that everything does not get scorched from the heat. Judging the water needs is hard to do when there are so many different size planters and pots.

Color My World Pumpkin

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John 8:35 “And a slave does not abide in the house forever, but a son abides forever.” NKJV. Abiding freedom that comes from Jesus the Truth brings us up out of slavery to the past, sins, and bondage to world views that are not His way.

In actuality, this blog was written nearly twenty five years ago. At the time I was putting together the song track for my music debut. The result was twelve songs that told my life story. Each one shared a slice of both my spiritual journey and my coming of age. While the music continues to sneak back into my thoughts now and again, the sharing of these songs came to a standstill at some point. Perhaps looking at each one still give me some peace. So for the foreseeable future, I am planning a “focused writing clinic.”

Right now the creativity in my life has gone into fast track. Keeping up with all of the ideas has forced me to start making lists again. I have lists for everything: what I want to write about, what I plan to crochet, what books I want to listen to, what music I should look up, what plans I have for the garden and greenhouse, and anything else that comes to mind. And for some reason, I am not wore out before I even get started. Yay!

First up Stained Glass Windows. This song was written in my college years as I sought to understand my early growing up years. Originally focused on the first ten years, I think that it actually goes clear through my teen years. what the words mean to me now is different than what it meant at first writing.

Sundays during my childhood always meant church. This past year when church has become a time on Sunday when we sit and watch a live feed, is simply not quite right. All those years of pretty dresses, fixed up hair, shiny shoes, and church music really had a strong influence on me. I loved the music part of church of course. The clothes were just a bonus. (However, getting me to put on a dress these last few years requires summer temperatures.)

The churches that we went to always seemed to have stained glass windows, and so did the houses that we lived in. Old buildings have a history to them that is undeniable. These windows were not my focus as a child. Though they were beautiful works of art and I can picture them in my mind’s eye to this day.

It is what happened during my thirteenth and fourteenth year of life that changed me to the core. I had already had my “Come to Jesus” moment by the time that life would change me forever. I knew who I was, or so I thought I did.

Then came the “mean people” years. Mean classmates, mean men, mean peers, mean parents, mean church people, mean friends. Though I guess if they were mean, that would declare that they really were not my friends in the first place

God chose to color my world pumpkin.

Color my world pumpkin?

Yep. And being a spring baby (birthday in April) this was not my favorite color. I remember when I asked my parents to let me have a yellow room. All was not really my choice, as they proceeded to put up pink wallpaper and gold carpet, and my Grandmother made me a pink with grey bedspread. I never liked any of it. The room was just not quite cheerful enough. Of course, I also lived in one of those houses with a tower room and the windows were at sky level. Talk about the real life “Tangled” experience.

I suppose if you mix pink and yellow, you get orange.

And so that’s what happened.

About the time I could get a drivers’ permit (in my state it was fourteen) my mother decided it would be best to get my eyes examined first. Off to the eye doctor she took me. The only local doctor that had any experience with Retinitis Pigmentosa was alarmed at the progression of the disease in my eyes, and he took drastic measures He prescribed pumpkin colored spectacles.

Well, that about sealed the deal with any hopes for friendship that I might have with my peers. Growing up in small town America meant that since I was no longer athletic material, I was out of IN. Yeah, I said that just the way I wanted to. Mean came into my life more that it had ever been before. I was picked on, teased, called names, and basically treated terribly by everyone who had a capacity for ruthlessness.

Coloring my world pumpkin may have saved my eyesight so that I would be able to drive for the next twenty eight years, but it gave me an “orange tinted” view of all those around me. Some people are simply rotten clementines. I hope they grew up.

Everyone has rose colored glasses. You really can’t deny it. No matter what has happened in your life, all of these situations and experiences effect one’s worldview. Knowing this about yourself, and about others is what makes us human.

It’s when we can take off our pumpkin colored shades and put on someone else’s color for just a moment that makes us relatable, friendly, and healthy.

I don’t know what color glasses you look through. Maybe like me life has handed you some very difficult set of circumstances. Maybe you are one of the lucky ones, with the “rosie” view of the world. I doubt it. Everyone has stained glass windows in their worldview. We don’t have a choice about it. It’s what window pane we choose to look through at others that matters.

Sometimes we have to take the spectacles off. Sometimes we have to put the glasses on. Sometimes we have to clean the lenses to get a better view. Blindness is not always a physical disability. Sometimes blindness is in the heart and soul. Sometimes pink blends with yellow and makes orange.

Disclaimer Alert! I don’t really like pumpkins. Okay, it is fun to watch them grow and it is cool to watch them change colors. I use to love the taste of pumpkin pie, but these days even that does not agree with me much. I would rather have a “squash” pie that tastes just like pumpkin only better-because it agrees with my system. And I am not a fall lover, so the loaded pumpkin decorations are not really my thing either. So it is now obvious to me why my CD failed. The picture was taken in the fall and the coloring is fall. For this “forever spring” garden lover, the CD should have had a spring picture and it should have been color toned to my spring palette with some yellow on it. Oh, well.

Autumn falls into winter

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From dry to snow to shirtsleeves again

Where else do we scoop snow on Sunday and mow the following Saturday? Wo, this land of infinite variety sure has us busy with all three seasons in one week.

Since when have we called this “God’s country?” Sometimes I think people are a little too proud of their place of origin and not giving full credit to whole scope of things. Oh, well, the soap box is all soggy and won’t hold me up any longer!

Years past I have collected the zinnia seed late in October, and this year I picked them off in September. The lawn is so dry that the grass is crunching under feet like french fries left in the fat too long. I was tempted to water the yard before it go cool again. We may be re-seeding more of the yard than planned.

A few years ago, my daughter’s retreat from wok place took her to the hammock while she was home. And then she had to work the weekend that we worked on the Greenhouse erector set. There are so many pictures of the construction in my pictures from four years ago. We just replaced the pond pump that filtered the water and added humidity to the room. It’s great to hear the sound of the water again when I walk in there. The plants will all soon be happy again.

Four years since we built the greenhouse and a name and a logo are still in the works. I have done some drawings or sketches but a marketing or graphics helper would be better at it. Anyone want to help? It is soon coming I hope.

Saving seeds and sharing goodies is my favorite part of the building. I hope next spring is even more generous.

Planning ahead for the next year, or the next growing season is so much fun. I know that I am a perpetual spring-aholic!! The plans always seem to be more in the head than on pater. I tried to keep things in a notebook once and got a little confused Suddenly it was three seasons later and I had not even looked at the list. Oops!

The beauty of art is in the eye of the beholder. For some reason, I just love this picure of the dired cone heads after the harvest was all complete. Three days late it snowed and we were digging the carrots up in the snow. Brr!

So I am back to crochet. I take a “warm” break in the greenhouse in middle of the day. It is so lovely to go and get warmed to the bone. Hats and mittens take up a larger portion of my busy time and they are a great in between thing for the larger projects to be set aside and rest my brain some!

I am so grateful for the chance to watch plants that God created grow. And I am so thinkful for the ability to be creative with my yarn projects. And NO-I have no plans to rais flax and make thread from it. Nor hemp, or cornsilk, or any other plant material that might make my allergies go completely bananas! That is the honest truth, because I am allergic to those little yellow buggers now too!

So Thanksgiving has come and gone. The goose is still getting fat. Which in our case the goose might be the bank account actually getting smaller, so that’s not true either.

This fall, my poor hubby is learning the value of a good strong spine. An old injury that he had, has turned into quite a physical challenge. Physical therapy seems to be the answer in discoving most of his nerve impingement. My heart aches for him as he tries to figure it all out and get answers from medical staff during this world health crisis. I pray for his safety every time he has a meeting with someone.

My health improved considerably with the onset of cold weather. However, my eye sight continues to be an issue. So many things do not even get attempted because of it. And then when I do try something new, technology just does not seem to aid me as much as you might think it should. Oh, well.

Ecclesiastes 12:1. (ESV) “Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, Before the difficult days come, And the years draw near when you say, ” I have no pleasure in [birthdays anymore] them.”

I am not picking on the birthday people really, it’s just that this month holds significance for some and this verse seemed appropriate for all the happenings in the world and the memories I have of all the people celebrating this month. I sure hope that Christmas still holds some excietement for you and that celebrating Christmas as the birth of our Lord brings you some pleasure this year. Even if you do spend the day alone. Find someone to call. Find someway to give something this Christmas.

From animation to art

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When disability changes personality

One night last week, my mind found a hundred different sunset silhouettes to keep me occupied through the sleep hours. Wonderment filled me as I woke, had I ever seen any of these pieces in real life? One in particular was a tree swing, only the rope’s obvious use and frayed strings were more evident. Another was a scene from the Disney movie Bambi that is actually a fire in the back ground. One was the two doves on the tree branch, but with more leafage than the one below. And there are the fishing scenes on the lake, and the moored boats next to docks. While three hours looking for any silouettes on the internet was an empty handed fishing trip. The only ones in my dreams that sort of matched were these two. Each one in my vision did not have an ovious sunlight, the sun being off to the side of the actual object of focus. Sunset is implied rather than targeted.

And why would such art images fill my mind so much? I am unable to dissolve their possibilities in my mind. Each one just keeps recurring at some point in the day. What does this thought process mean to me? And why a sunset? I am not a prophet, I don’t think. Are these prophetic in their nature or a symbol of the past?

More revelation has come to me over the days since these images first appeared to me. I see so much more than the setting sun or a tree swing resting from its flight. The waters of the lake have no ripples from the jet-skies, or the breeze. Each item seems quiet, tranquil, peaceful.

At rest.

Years ago, my brother and I would write little plays and act out various performances. Remembrances of woodbox stages, and piano bench theatre fill my memory. We dressed up as pirates, or Indians and cowboys, or maybe Cleopatra, it does not really matter. Imagination was lord and we were King and Queen of the drama world in our home. From those days I learned to mime, to pretend, and to fib my way through our play day.

Throughout my childhood, from my early temper tantrum fits into my teen years, I learned the power of dramatic and emotional hand gestures. These seemed quite effective in the whole of conversation, speech, and relating an incident to an audience.

Until…

One day as a teenager, during my “waitress” years, I learned a valuable less about the tragedy of lost peripheral vision and hand gesturing. My father (who is the carrier for my families genetic retinal degeneration) was telling some story as he often did. While dramatizing his tale to a table of men, he used his hand to gesture some scene. Unbeknownst to him, I was coming in with his refill of coffee. I had tried to get his attention, but everyone knows how difficult it is to get my dad to quit talking. Interruption is not much of an option. Needless to say… the coffee got spilled.

Those were the days of my growing up. Many instances like that very one happened frequently. The challenge was to wait long enough to get noticed. Or to have the patience to wait out the telling. Or to simply never serve. Some chose the later. Gradually my father leaned not to wave his arms about while fabricating his stories. Sadly, it took me a few years to lean this dismembering of my arms and hands from conversation.

And not too recently, a plate full of desert was easily sprung to the floor when because of my lack of sight, my hands reached out for the item only to flip it through the air. Videos of food flying, cakes tipping to the floor, or cups leaping through the air are not funny to me. They are a part of the surprise of visual impairment. Sitting perfectly statue is the best response to the possible “Boo!” Not really so fun anymore.

One example that still frustrates me is my children’s club teaching years. Much of what one does while teaching children is achieving compliance so that the teacher can do her job. One particular student of mine never learned to stay in his designated space. I was actually okay if he did not sit, but the wandering into my space caused acciden after accident. My frustration reached its boiling point each week at lesson. Every night, I would go home in tears because Nathan would get “HIT” every week either by my arm, hand, foot, or another appendage. Could he never learn that I could not see him coming towards my path? I cried every week, because this child made teaching club miserable for me. My eyesight made teaching kids impossible.

Finally we made it to the end of the year and I quit teaching kids club at church. I was heart broken to end on such a sour note. I loved teaching, but children have this nasty ability to move faster than my eyes. Peripheral vision is key to dealing with “needy” children who cannot comprehend another might have some disability that clashes with theirs. I was so sad.

Ending my teaching due to my eyesight.

Yep, It was just one more thing my eyes had taken away from me. Grief set in for some time. I still don’t want to attend a Vacation Bible School program or any child focused event. It hurts. I still want to teach. But it is not possible. These encounters with moving targets still continue. I can’t even read children’s books very well because the text is so unpredictable on the pages. It’s all over the place. Up, then down, then in the middle, and sometimes on the edges. Uff. It’s just too much to feel lost all the time.

So RP changes personalities. Where does the teacher in me go?

What happens to the dramatic, funny girl that once loved to tell a story and get laughs from the room?

One time someone told me, I acted like I did not want to be in a particular place all the time. Actually, that’s not it at all. When someone hands me a cellphone with an image to look at, I simply do not see the gesture. My focus has been on their face, and unless the words indicate their actions… It is not within my perpheral anymore. People in a room throw conversation around like a hot potato. It has become difficult to follow who is talking and where the ping pong ball is now. There are times it gets so tiring, I just don’t try to follow it.

So interjecting appropriate conversation has become difficult when there are more than two or three people in a group.

But just becuase I miss a lot of conversation cues, does not mean I miss every facial gesture. Sometimes I am completely passed up when a “picture” on said phone is shown. This does hurt. Not intentionally, but it does. Sometimes, I see someone roll eyes in my direction at another person because I missed something. Yes, that hurts too.

So I have changed.

From animation to still art form, I have become the unused swing hanging from the tree branch. While everyone else around me is playing baseball, or croquet in the lawn, I miss the whole thing. The ball wizzes right by my head and I haven’t seen a thing. I am lost. And no one has found me.

I am blind, but now I see. I see that I cannot be the same animated dramatic energetic self I once was. Moving too quicly through any space could be hazardous to my health. Having a friend that can’t even sit still for a conversation is not my cup of tea. I had a friend like that once. She was so busy bodied that I would get a head ache trying to figure out where she was all the time.

Now I see that being lost all the time might just be part of who I am. Getting my dog to figure out that she has to be my eyes is the task at hand. If she becomes a new tripping hazard….

Well, the blind fold might have to go up for a day to teach her that she is IT! When I am around people that do not see me as blind becuase there is no blindfold, well, life turns into a still life form in a piece of art. I become a silhouette sitting on the dock while others are gazing at a glorious sunset. The suns rays are not my friend, so I am looking at the silhouettes. The sky has a beautiful orange and pink glow. I hope I don’t forget it.