It's OK to be Blind

                I detailed some recent troubles Little Dude and I had in my last post.  That was an odd week, filled with random strangers doing randomly strange things. A deviation from the world I have painstakingly created for my son, a world where it’s ok to be blind. 

           If you read that last post you’ll notice that I was a bit dismayed by the events of that week, but managed to downplay the significance of those events, both to Gabriel and (eventually) myself.  It’s easy to dismiss negative behavior when people are out of line. 

But what do you do when the message is one of love and hope yet still wildly inappropriate?

Last week Gabriel and I were in a grocery store we don’t frequent often.  I was trying to motor through the store as fast as humanly possible but Gabriel heard the siren song of the refrigerated meat counter and had to check it out.  He was shambling freestyle through the market (sans white stick) and I was tossing directional commands at him while simultaneously being overwhelmed by feminine hygiene products; multitasking at its finest.

Gabriel reached the meat counter, pressed his ear against the glass and informed me that the refrigerator sounded funny.  I told him I’d be right there and advised him not to move to his left, because a woman was already occupying that space.

Said woman had been observing our antics. She said hello to Gabriel and touched his head.  I could tell she was harmless, but I dislike it when strangers touch my child and something about this woman gave me a mild case of the heebie jeebies.  I abandoned my tampon mission and crossed the 10 feet that separated us in a flurry of overprotective mothering.  The woman said hello and told me that my child is adorable.  I thanked her, grabbed his hand and lead him toward the cheese.

While debating the virtues of mozzarella over provolone I felt a presence behind me.  I turned and found Ms. Meat Counter regarding me with a look akin to benevolent compassion. I threw up a little in my mouth because I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things and I knew what was coming.

She asked me if I believe in God.  I instantly replied that I did and started hedging away.  I shot her a look that clearly said, ‘Please, stranger.  Shut the hell up.’

She did not.

Instead she told me that God works miracles. That one day, with enough faith on my part, my boy could see.  I could feel piousness oozing out of her. I know that she thought her message was one of hope, perhaps she’d even felt compelled by the Holy Spirit to trail us around the frozen food department to deliver it.

I was literally shaking with contained fury.

Thank you, Meat Counter.  For seven long years, I have been raising my child to embrace his fate.  I’ve been teaching him to believe in God while accepting that he is missing something fundamental that most other people take for granted.  I have been teaching him that God works in mysterious ways that we can’t always understand.  I tell him that God has a special plan for him, one that involves the extraordinary gifts he has been given in lieu of sight. I have never once given him hope of ever seeing.

For a moment, I dissociated into two separate entities.  One contained all my logic and the other all my emotion and they were both screaming for a chance to respond.

Logic’s argument was sound:  The pathways in the brain that allow people to understand what they are seeing are formed by the age of two. Even if Gabriel’s retinas were miraculously reattached at that very moment, right there in the dairy section, he would not be able to comprehend what he was seeing.  If there is ever to be a miracle in my boy’s life, it will be one of technology and not divine intervention.

However, science stands on a fixed ground of proven facts while belief in miracles is not hindered by any such limitations.  It is impossible for these two factions to debate because the argument always boils down to science pointing out a physical impossibility that a miracle could somehow trump.  Logic was clearly not the way to go.

Emotion’s argument was relatively incoherent, as emotions tend to be: Don’t you think I prayed for that?  Don’t you realize that I had to pull myself inside out to get to the point that we’re at now?? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to raise a child to believe in a God that made him less than perfect? Who the hell do you think you are, saying such things right in front of him??  Do you have any idea how damaging false hope is to a child?? What are you…some kind of idiot??

However, as this woman truly meant no harm, it seemed unfair to unleash my wrath upon her.  It would have been mildly satisfying to tell her exactly what I thought of her kind words, but not worth having to explain to my boy why Mommy made a nice lady in the supermarket cry.

All of this happened in an instant while Meat Counter looked at me expectantly.  Gabriel’s hand tightened around mine, possible because he could sense the battle being waged in my head.  That tiny hand brought me back to myself. 

I smiled at her.  It may even have been a pleasant smile.  Maybe.  I told her that my son’s very existence on this Earth was, in and of itself, a miracle that I am extremely grateful for and that I wouldn’t dream of asking for more.   She started to speak again but I held up my hand, thanked her and walked away.

I respect those who have such faith.  It’s an incredible gift but I have to wonder: do those who suggest that others believe in miracles ever stop to consider how unnecessarily devastating it is for those to whom miracles do not come.

As Gabriel and I were checking out he summed up the incident nicely.  “Hey, Mom.  That lady was kind of weird, wasn’t she?”

I agreed and was extremely proud of the way I handled things, until I got to the car and realized I’d forgotten both tampons and cheese.

I do believe in God.  I also believe that sometimes the answer is no and you’re only choice at that point is to make the best of what you’ve got.  The alternative is to become consumed with a longing for something that you most likely will never have, living a half life at best and that’s no way to live.  Little Dude doesn’t live a half life.  He lives a life in a world where it’s ok to be blind.