Staying Still for Colin

It’s my little brother’s birthday today. I cannot believe how old and tall he is! Isn’t it a funny moment when your cute little brother suddenly becomes your very hansom, tall brother? Seriously, he’s like a foot taller than me now… maybe more.

Anyway, these are my reflections on memories from 20 years ago when my baby brother was born. I miss and love you lots, Colin! Happy birthday!

I’m wearing my favorite dress… well, one of them. It’s the button up, with the pockets and the wide collar that looks like a slice of watermelon. I am glad I’m dressed up, because I’m a big sister now. I’m going to see my little brother. Being a big sister is an important job, and I want to look the part… especially because I want Mom to let me hold him. Only big, responsible girls get to hold baby brothers.

Grandmother says that we’re almost there. I see huge buildings and a parking lot filled with cars. There’s an apple on the seat next to me… the one my big brother refused to eat. He doesn’t like apples. I wonder if my little brother will like apples… he probably won’t be able to eat them until he’s three like me though.

We walk down a long hallway. It’s white tile and bright lights, and there are windows to our right. I see babies through the windows, in little boxes. Is he in there? I peer through the windows as we pass. There’s a dark-skinned baby… Is that him? I see a baby that looks a lot more like me, blonde and white-skinned, but then we’re turning into a room, and there’s my brother.

He’s curled in my Mom’s arms, wrapped in blankets. All I can see is his little pink face. Mom smiles at us. My big brother and I run to her bedside. Mom takes my hand and lets me touch his head, urging me to “be gentle.’

I am… I can’t imagine being anything else. My fingers brush over feathery baby fuzz, and I can’t believe he’s real. He’s just like my baby doll, Elizabeth, only warm, and breathing, and a boy.

I’m jumping up and down and asking if I can hold him. I can’t help it. I’ve been waiting for this moment forever! Mom says if I sit on the bed next to her and stay very still, I can hold him. I clamber on the bed and sit very still on top of the blankets. He’s in my arms, warm and heavy and full of sleep.

I’m a big sister, and I can’t stop smiling.

Thankful for a Compelling Savior

One thing our culture hates about God is that he is uncompromising. He demands certain behaviors of us, and condemns others, and there are consequences if we do not respond. We see that here. The master of the house invites several people to come in and be a part of his banquet, but each refuses, citing some excuse. Thus, the master says that none of those who were invited and denied his invitation will taste anything of the feast he has prepared. So uncompromising? Yes.

But he is also a God who compels.

“16 Jesus replied: “A certain man was preparing a great banquet and invited many guests.

17 At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.

18 “But they all alike began to make excuses. The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it. Please excuse me.”

19 “Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out. Please excuse me.’

20 “Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’

21 “The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.”

22 “‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’

23 “Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full.

24 I tell you, not one of those who were invited will get a taste of my banquet.’” (Luke 14:16-24)

Though some refused him, he sends out someone to compel others to attend the feast. Someone, like Jesus himself. Yes, God has standards, the highest ones imaginable, but God knows that we are broken, and in his great love for us he does not abandon us to our brokenness. We are poor. We have nothing to offer the God of the universe, and yet he does not simply leave us to suffer in our poverty. We are blind, but we are not condemned to darkness. We are lame, but we are not resigned to a life of immobility. Jesus moves us through his sacrifice, which demonstrated his love for us and atoned for our sin. He compels us through the Holy Spirit, who moves in our hearts that we might be able to hear and respond to the master’s call.

“If today you hear God’s voice, do not harden your hearts.” If we feel convicted over our sin, we should not be angry that the righteous creator God has called us out. Instead, we should recognize that such conviction is a mercy. It’s a call to come in and enjoy the feast of grace that God has prepared for all who are willing to partake.

Thankful for Birdsong

I’m a musician, and melody is a constant presence in my life. My roommates can attest to that. They often comment, or tease, about my humming, and singing, and piano improvising at all times of the day, and occasionally the night. I think maybe that’s what makes me appreciate birdsong so much. They are participating in the same music-making that fuels my energy from hour to hour, and it’s life-giving, enchanting, even.

It reminds me of all the Disney princesses that make friends with birds. Cinderella, Snow White, Mary Poppins (although she’s not exactly a princess), either way they all have this magically musical relationship with winged whistlers of various varieties, and in a way it’s quite representative of the reality. There is something magical about it, an animal that can produce music at will, and does so as a regular part of their routine. There aren’t many other animals like that. May it serve as a reminder to make magic with our own music in our own routines.

When Weighty Cares Beset Your Soul — A Prayer for 2018

This is just a small bit of verse that came to me as I prayed that the Lord would use this year as he pleases. Undoubtedly amateur in terms of poetry, but I’d thought I’d share anyway, since the sentiment is sincere, if nothing else.

When weighty cares beset your soul

Rejoice, oh heart, the Lord extol,

For in his hands each trial finds rest,

To ease the anxious, grief-burned breast.

And when the swords of men draw near,

Remember then his side, the spear.

He took for you the shame for sin,

And granted you new life in him.

And if one day the tempest rage,

Should cast you out into the waves,

Look up to see your sleeping Lord,

And know his peace means you restored.

For never did he like Jonah stray,

Or from his father turn away,

The righteous life we could not live,

He by grace through faith will give.

“Your faith,” he’ll say, “has made you well.”

So we need never taste of hell,

For though we only death deserved,

Jesus came to heal our hurt.

Oh let me never forget thy grace,

That cleanses me from every trace,

Of sin and every evil thing,

Which kept me from my God and king.

Oh that. thy Word and thine alone

Might be for me foundation stone

And when the mighty waters come

I shall say, “Thy will be done.”

Thankful for Imperfect Art

Art is an earthly representation of the creative power of God, dim and weak in comparison, but undoubtedly so. We are made in his image, and being made in his image we display, like him, the ability to create and to breath life into our creations. As an artist, I often find that my creations die too early, or, at least, do not reach full maturity because I forsake them, citing their imperfections as my excuse.

And then it struck me. What if God had done that with his imperfect art?

All things were good when he made them—perfectly good—but they did not stay that way. God gave his creatures a will, a will which could choose to follow him or turn from him. In turning from him, we turned from perfection, and thus into imperfection.

Still, God did not do as I would have done. He did not forsake his art. Rather, he pursued it, even became a part of it when he saw fit to take the form of a babe, born amongst peasants, suffer the lowly, hungry life of a working man, and was denied and crucified by the very imperfect creations he had come to pursue and perfect.

How many songs have I left unsung? How many stories and poems and articles have I left undeveloped and unfinished due to my petty frustration over their iniquities? Undoubtedly hundreds, but I am thankful that God shows me a different way. Even now I am tempted to leave this bit of writing undone. I am tempted to quit the document and never look back at it, too unsatisfied with this sentence, or that word, or the whole concept in general… but I, too, am an imperfect creation, and my creator did not abandon me to non-existence due to my defects. As an artist, I have a responsibility to my art to develop it, to give it at least a chance at life, even considering its deficiencies.

Thus, as an expression of my thanks in this regard, I hope to be a more responsible creator in the coming year. In my quest to become more like Jesus, I hope that I will pursue my art, like he did, and gift it existence even when I feel it doesn’t deserve it. Here begins my fight against perfectionism, which has long been the, often victorious, enemy of my work. It will be a long-fought battle, of that I am certain, but if it was worth it to God, it is worth it to me.

Thankful for Burnt Rolls

I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to host a big celebration, like Thanks Giving or Christmas. It sounds like so much work, and I couldn’t imagine how I could ever prepare for that many people with that much food to make and that many dishes to clean up afterward… and yet, it seems like it would be fulfilling… to know how much you contributed to the success of an event that brought loved ones together when they might not have otherwise been together, and formed memories that might not otherwise have been formed.

My suite mates and I got a small taste of what that might be like this weekend. We hosted “Friends Giving”, my roommates tradition with a couple college friends. Here’s what I learned from the whole experience.

1. Very little goes as planned.

A: Turns out most grocery stores don’t have thanks giving turkeys until a bit closer to thanks giving, so we settled on mixed rotisserie turkey and chicken.

B: I made one batch of rolls that turned out wonderfully, then put the next batch in only to come back 10 minutes later with them burnt to a crisp. My buds didn’t realize that if you turn the oven knob one way, it turns on the oven, and if you turn it the other way, it turns on the broiler. Whoops.

C. We planned to eat at 6:00 Pm. I think we sat down around 7:30. Hahaha.

2. Decorations are Worth it!

One of our friends brought pumpkins, gourds, and pretty fall leaves to brighten our dinner table. I grew up in a family that wasn’t too fussed about getting out decorations of any kind, except for the tree and lights at Christmas and the occasional wreath, so it’s kind of a novel idea to me to decorate for Thanks Giving, but I love it and have decided to adopt the tradition.

3. It’s fun to cook with other people.

If I were doing all the cooking on my own, there’s no doubt prepping a holiday feast would be enormously overwhelming, but having the opportunity to prepare a meal as a group effort was so wholesome and satisfying. Sure, it was crowded, loud, hot, and all of us were tripping over dogs who had appointed themselves cleanup crew for the kitchen floor, but we were also talking, laughing, singing along to country music, helping each other when we needed an extra hand or spice or tool that someone else had been using, and every bit of that added to the flavor of the food we sat down to hours later. I think, in a very dim and modern way, it reflected the way the pilgrims and Indians must have felt in feasting together after so much hard work at that New England meal hundreds of years ago.

So, today, I am thankful for burnt rolls, and crowded kitchens, and a delicious meal with friends and food aplenty.

Thankful for Tools

Guiding Eyes Training (September 2017), Day 3 Part 1|Meeting Oleta’s Young Padawan

I have split day 3 into two posts, because there was just too much to say. Find part two here.

Dog day!!!

Juno obedience Wednesday morning went well. After breakfast, I had a deep philosophical conversation about life in the lobby with one of my classmates. It was very enjoyable and passed the time quickly. Before I knew it, it was 9:00 and I was rushing to puppy proof my room before the big reveal at 9:15. We gathered in alumni hall and listened as the list was read. I was the first on the list. I must disappoint you in reporting that I cannot publicize any identifying information about my new guide just yet, not until the match is a bit more certain, and not until the puppy raisers have been notified that their puppy has been matched with a person and is in class. Our puppy raisers work so hard and give so much of themselves to these dogs, and we want to ensure that they find out about their puppy’s placement through the proper channels, and not through a third party like social media.

That said, they announced my dog’s name, breed, and sex. For now, I will refer to her as Padawan, as in Oleta’s Young Padawan.

I spent a few minutes in the coffee room with a snack, chatting with my classmates, then went back to my room to wait. It wasn’t too long before I heard the knock on my door.

“Coming!” I called out, then hurriedly gathered my treat pouch and leash from my bed. My trainer came in with our instructor assistant and “somebody else”, as she announced as I opened the door. “Somebody else” came excitedly in, sniffing out the entire area. My instructor walked me through giving her five high value food rewards, which she very much enjoyed for the approximately 15 seconds that it took her to eat them, gave me a few last bits of information, then left us to snuggle. We did not do much snuggling, though not for lack of trying on my part haha. First we explored every inch of the room, then she spent the time getting up, laying down, staring at the door, and whining for the trainers. This is perfectly normal. She has spent the last six months training every day with them, and she doesn’t understand yet that I am going to be her person now… so she cried, and cried, and I fruitlessly attempted to distract her with petting, talking, her bone, and singing, which eventually did help her some. As I sang, she finally laid down for more than a minute next to me. At one particular song, she got excited and rolled over on her back, wriggling back and forth and batting me with her paws. It was so cute, and I thought I had her well-occupied, but she was soon back at the door whining.

Eventually we were escorted up to lunch by a trainer. Padawan was very excited and we only walked a few steps at a time before I had to ask for a sit to remind her not to pull on the leash. Lunch was hectic, as I expected after spending two hours trying to get her to stay still long enough to pet at all hahaha. She was up and down the entire time, but I did get to eat bites of my sandwich in between commands to “sit” and “down” and “stay”. The other students at my table had to do so a couple of times. It seemed their dogs were much more interested in chilling out. Personally, I’m glad I have my ball of energy. 🙂 ❤

Seven Things I Have Missed About Having a Guide Dog

I have been a guide dog user for six years now, and it’s become a way of life. My guide dog is a mobility aid, and so affects the way I travel, but she also affects my schedule, personal interactions, thought processes, financial decisions, clothing choices, etc. For the last while, a lot of those things have been absent from my life. These are some of the things I’ve missed most since retiring my first guide.

1. That Glidey, Free Feeling of Working a Guide Dog

If you have never worked a guide dog, you may not understand what I mean here. When you pick up the harness handle and tell your dog forward, your dog leans into the harness, you lean back, and you take off. It’s a smooth, exhilarating sensation that I can only describe as a sort of flight. Having worked with a guide that has not really pulled into the harness for years, I have not experienced this feeling properly in a good long while, and I cannot wait to experience it again.

2. Excessorizing My Guide Dog

Oleta’s drawer in my apartment is full of brightly colored flowers, bows, ribbons, bandanas, and collars that coordinated with my outfits. My guide dog is, in a way, an extension of my body, and therefore, also fashion, and right now, I’m missing my canine fashion extender!

3. Interacting Regularly with a Dog

I love the nitty gritty mechanics of the guide dog team. I am a dog person, and I love being near them. Learning to communicate with my dog, improving obedience and work-related skills, and watching my dog put those skills into action are all things that give me joy, and that I miss having as part of my everyday life.

4. Interacting with the Public

When you take a dog everwhere with you, you get noticed. Suddenly everyone wants to shower you with compliments, pester you with questions, and tell you long detailed stories about their childhood labrador Rex who was their best friend, could open doors, slept with them every night, saved their sister’s pet rabbit from a fire, etc etc. Sometimes it can become overwhelming, but in general I enjoy those conversations. I love sharing about my guide dog, the amazing work that she does, and the organization that bred, raised, and trained her. More even than that, I love how the presence of a dog seems to normalize my interactions with others. Instead of viewing me as “that blind girl”, they think of me as “that girl with the dog”, which honestly I prefer.

5. Going Out Early Every Morning

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually kind of like being awoken at the crack of dawn to park and feed my starving canine. I am an early riser anyway, but there’s no staying in bed with a hungry labrador in need of a potty break bouncing all over you. I love having that motivation to roll out of bed, no matter how groggy, and go out to greet the new day, whether that be freezing wind and rain or sunshine and birdsong.

6. Always Having a Good Excuse to Talk to Myself

Sometimes verbalizing my thoughts helps me process things, okay? With Oleta, people assume I am talking to her… which I may very well be. Right now, with no dog, I just appear unstable.

7. Spacing Out On The Walk Home Because My Dog Knows Exactly Where Home Is

Guide dogs are not GPSs. I can’t just say, “Juno, take me to Walmart.” and then find myself magically at Walmart 20 minutes later. Still, after directing my guide dog home over and over again, day after day, my guide dog starts to understand that when I say, “Let’s go home.”, I am about to tell her forward, left, to the curb, forward, right, etc.” Basically, she becomes a bit of a GPS. Of course I can’t totally space out. I still need to keep track of where I am, and make safe traffic decisions, but I can, for example, work on memorizing music for my voice lesson the next morning the whole walk and still do it completely safely (I can do that with my cane too but I usually miss more turns).

What I’m trying to say is my dog knows where dinner is. My cane, on the other hand, doesn’t care.

Today marks one day before Dog Day, and one day before I get to reclaim these and other elements of the guide dog lifestyle, and I can’t wait!

Celebrating Five Years

With the cool evening air wafting in through the screen door, along with golden birdsong and the smoke of summer fires, I am swept into years past, happy childhood years, filled with summer evenings of s’mores and sparklers. Today has been a day of reflecting on memories. That’s because today marks 15 states, 4 countries, 5 languages, five years, and countless memories since Oleta, my beautiful guide dog, and I became a team.
Contrary to many people’s assumptions, I don’t NEED a guide dog to travel independently. I can (and do upon occasion) use a white cane to travel just as effectively. I don’t NEED a guide dog to pursue my professional goals. I know lots of blind professionals who are strictly white cane users. I chose to work with a guide dog because I loved dogs, I imagined working a guide dog to be infinitely more pleasurable than using a cane, and it was, after all, my dream to have a guide dog from the age of eight.
Those reasons still stand. Working a guide dog is, in my opinion, infinitely more pleasurable than using a cane. A guide dog allows one to walk much more fluidly and quickly without having to stop every 20 feet to unstick one’s stubborn cane from the side walk, or the grass, or some unidentifiable metal thing in the middle of the path, or, heaven forbid, someone’s legs, or to recover from getting one’s cane stuck in one of these various and sundry obstacles, not stopping fast enough, and promptly being rewarded with a sharp jab to the stomach. Yep, don’t miss those days. Having a guide dog also means that I didn’t get hit by that one insane bus driver who suddenly decided to drive on the side walk right where I was standing, it’s a heck of a lot easier to find doors, stairs, curbs, escalators (Oleta LOVES escalators), benches, etc, and sometimes even one of my best friends. Yes, these, among others, are all awesome benefits of having a guide dog, but now a days, the reason I work a guide dog is because of Oleta.
Oleta, who loves unconditionally as easily as she licks, who takes work breaks to wriggle on her back in the grass and the snow and the sand just for the pure joy of it, who actually whines when she sees children on playgrounds because she wants to play with them, who lives out the meaning of her name “Little one with wings” every time we find ourselves flying alone along some sidewalk or other.
Dear Oleta, I love how you love life, and I love living life with you. Happy five years of memories made! I look forward to many more together.