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Love is Blind
The disease had finally run its course leaving Angela weak but mending…and blind. At 18, pretty, popular, and intelligent, she’d had everything to live for. Now she was understandably devastated and the whole family with her. The scholarship to Trinity College had to be rejected and in its place two years at the School for the Blind just 50 miles from her home. It meant she could come home on the weekends and she’d given in with tears and resentment.
Every step was a painful one for Angela. To be dependent on everyone was, to her, adding insult to injury. She who had been on the cheerleading squad had worked a part-time job after school and used up the weekends surfing! It was all dead to her now and self-pity threatened to swallow her up. Still life went on. And though the blind school soon became a second home, she hated it. She knew she would never get over her bitterness. Why did God allow this to happen?
Phillip, her main teacher and counselor at the School for the Blind had patiently listened to her bitterness. He never lost his temper with her though time and again she’d burst into angry tears of, ‘I can’t do it! Stop pushing me!’ or ‘Just leave me alone!’ Philip never tried to talk her out of her anger; he just patiently waited for the storm to pass and encouraged her to try again. And, in spite of all her pain and depression a little spark was kindling for the patient, all-enduring Philip.
She began to trust and rely on him for the sight she had lost. He’d lead her around the schoolrooms and tell her about the furnishings. She’d ask him about the views from different windows and how big the trees were and what color the sky was. He never tired of her questions and always tried to fit his descriptions to her memory. “Did you ever see a Robin’s eggs?” he’d said once in his gentle voice. “Yes,” she had smiled, remembering. “Well feel the air, today it’s soft and warm—the color of a Robin’s eggs. And little wisps of clouds are scuttering across it.” Angela would try to imagine that in her mind’s eye and for a very brief moment would forget that she couldn’t see. Another time Philip had taken her hand and outlined the big comfy chair in the sitting room. “It’s powder gray,” he had told her, “with bright blue cushions—the color of your eyes.” Angela had smiled up at him.
He’d bring her flowers and make her try to guess what kind they were and even what color. That always made her laugh even though it was a joke against her own disability. But Philip wouldn’t let her off the hook just because she couldn’t see. “No, come on,” he’d plead, “what color do they feel like?” And she’d try to guess just to be silly. With anyone else it might have seemed annoying and childish but with Philip it was endearing.
Angela began to master the art of Braille and had learned to feed herself and curl her hair and even iron her clothes, but one part of her new education wasn’t going so well. Navigating. Angela just couldn’t get used to using a cane. She’d been so graceful, an excellent dancer and into sports, and the ignominy of having to stumble around like a cripple always sent her into depression. But Philip just wouldn’t let up. Philip and his assistant would take Angela into a large room with set obstacles for her to practice navigating and time and time again she’d end up in tears and anger as her shins hit the edge of a table yet again.
“Angela,” Philip would encourage, “You’ve got to keep moving the cane in front of you all the time. It’s your eyes.” And he always said this so gently that Angela couldn’t stay mad. Wherever he took her, he used a cane, showing her how to listen for the different sounds. But still Angela could not get it. ‘I’ll just get a wheelchair and let someone else take me where I want to go’ she’d say bitterly. And though it made Philip sigh, he was as determined as she was resistant. He pushed her, encouraged her, argued with her, reasoned with her. But all to no avail. After nearly a year she still had not learned to navigate without a guide.
Her studies were going reasonably well and most of the other daily tasks were shaping up well. But Philip had exhausted his ingenuity where walking was concerned and Angela’s progress was so slow in that area that he worried about her. He knew he would never give up on her and that was in great part due to the simple fact that he had fallen in love with her. It pained him to see her so resistant to using a cane and he wanted to kiss her bitterness away. But Angela was obviously depending on Philip too much already. If she knew of his love would she just give up and depend on him totally? He couldn’t take the chance. And, besides, he didn’t want Angela to cling to him because she needed him or was grateful.
Angela’s parents had listened to Angela often tell them of Philip’s many virtues. Secretly they were convinced that Angela cared more for him than she let on. And they were right. Angela had known for many months that she’d never loved anyone like she loved Philip. It was the very barrier that kept her from learning to use a cane. For although she might pity herself, she didn’t want to be loved out of pity. And how could Philip watch her stumbling around like an ungainly child and not pity her? No, she could never tell him of her love nor could she learn to use a cane while Philip was watching and pitying.
In Angela’s quiet times, she often thought about Philip and how wonderful life would have been with him—if only she was like him and could see! She wondered if he found her pretty and wished she knew what he looked like. Then her heart cursed again the eyes that no longer told her of the wonders of the world, the eyes that made her a burden to everyone around her, the eyes that had caused her to meet the man she would love the rest of her life--the man she would never burden with her handicap! The irony of it made her little mouth set in a grim line of bitterness. But she kept her secret to herself and poured herself into her work and studies even more.
When the school board made their decision, they left it to Philip to tell Angela. With a heavy heart he went to find her. She was studying quietly in her room and when he asked if he could talk to her she’d closed her Braille textbook without a word. She knew him well enough to know that this was something serious. “Angela,” he started, and Angela’s heart couldn’t help missing a beat as he put his hand on hers, “The school board has been thinking long and hard about this and we think it’s time you moved on to another school.” He paused, waiting for Angela’s reaction. She had been totally startled.
“An...another school?” she stammered, “but why?….” she demanded.
Philip took both her hands now and took a deep breath, “Because,” he said carefully, “We think you’ve learned everything here that we can teach you.” And there was pain in his voice that Angela could not understand.
Angela sat stunned, her mind racing. She hadn’t finished her studies here, she had a full load of classes to take next year… something didn’t add up. What more did they need to teach her? She thought about all Philip had taught her, her successes and failures and then she knew...
“It’s because I can’t get around by myself yet, isn’t it?” she said quietly. Philip sighed a deep sigh.
“Angela, I want you to have the opportunity to work with someone…more experienced,” he said quietly. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “And the school board has decided that for your sake you can’t go on until you’ve learned to get around.” He had hated to tell her but it was done.
Angela stood up awkwardly, her temper rising. “Why does everyone seem to know what’s good for me!? Isn’t it bad enough that my future was wrenched out of my hands and that I’m so dependent on everyone else? Now I have to have other people deciding what’s good for me!?” She was pacing back and forth, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you think blind people have any brains?” she vented. “We’re suddenly so stupid that we don’t know what’s good for us?!”
“Angela…,” Philip soothed but Angela just kept on, getting out months of frustration and resentment.
“Do your administrators think that just because they can see, they know better than blind people?” she shouted u
nreasonably. “And what about you?!” she said, suddenly turning on Philip. “Just because you can see doesn’t mean you know what’s best for me!!’ and now Angela was crying. She groped her way across the room and fell on her bed sobbing. Philip, in his anxiousness to get to her, stumbled into her study chair and fell heavily to the floor. Angela listened, but Philip didn’t get up. She hastily wiped her eyes and carefully felt on the floor till she found him.
“Philip!” she cried in anguish, “Are you ok?” She touched his face all over as if looking for clues to his unconsciousness and finally felt him open his eyes. “Oh Philip,” she choked emotionally, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he soothed, “Just a little shaken up I guess.” He sat next to her for a moment then slowly got up and pulled her to her feet and instinctively hugged her to him. She did not resist. They stood in each others arms for some time, unable to hide the long unspoken emotions from being revealed.
“I’m sorry I got so angry Philip,” Angela said softly into his neck.
“That’s ok,” he replied huskily, then added somewhat unsteadily, “Angela, you won’t have to leave until next month and I…that is, would you be willing to try just once more with me?” He could not help holding her more tightly as he thought of her leaving.
She sighed in his embrace and whispered, “I don’t want to leave here and I don’t want to leave…” and she left the phrase unfinished and pulled away a little. “I will try again,” she said with determination. And a little smile lurked on her face as she added playfully, “But how is it that my teacher, who wants me to learn to get around, not only knocks down, but falls over the only chair in my room?” and she was laughing. But Philip was silent.
The silence stretched over the room and over the last weeks and months and year and suddenly the truth hit Angela like the 2:30 freight train. “Oh no!!!…” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion “Why you’re…you’re …” And tears prevented her from finishing the sentence as they rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks. She buried her face in Philip’s shoulder once again and he held her close as she sobbed, “Oh Philip, How could I have been so stupid? So selfish?! So blind?! Why…why didn’t you tell me!?” and she held him as though she would never let him go.
“Well,” he said gently, as he stroked her long soft hair, “I thought you’d figure it out in time and besides, I didn’t think you’d trust the blind leading the blind!” and then he kissed the tears that had turned to laughter and she knew that if he would have her, his bride would walk down the aisle unassisted.
And he would, and she did.