Thought Wheel

Ann Chiappetta

Pinch me, I’m Dreaming

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem writing

Since announcing the release of my first book of poems, UPWELLING, http://www.dvorkin.com/annchiappetta/, the feedback has been wonderful. Dozens of folks have pledged to purchase either the e book or printed book, much to my amazed mind. Yes, I am still adjusting to the attention. It’s a practical way on how to practice being gracious, which is also a good thing.

My publisher/editor team, Lenore and David Dworkin, www.leonoredvorkin.com, have been great, too. Other writers have agreed to help promote my book with ads in newsletters. The best was the first sale which took place yesterday.

And so, the newest thread in my own life loom begins. I’ve been giving this experience a great deal of brain energy; questions pop into my head and get me thinking them over. Questions like, why didn’t I do this before? I know it’s a bit silly but I can’t help it. Maybe it is as others have stated, that it is a little bit of luck and lots of patience. I am reminded of a Buddhist message, do nothing and all will be done. I have made a great effort to forego the worry and embrace the joy in this adventure. I do have this little voice cautioning me not to get too carried away, to stay grounded and limit the ego-boosting and remain humble.

All I need to do is go from my office into the kitchen and attack the mountain of dishes or start putting laundry away. Humble tasks for times when I need it most.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Here it is, Folks!

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem writing

Upwelling: Poetry
C 2016 by Ann Chiappetta
Guide dogs, death, and a disturbing dream. Marriage, memories, and intriguing mysteries. Eroticism, abortion, and a wonderfully poetic essay. In this collection of 23 of her short, highly accessible poems from several decades, Ann Chiappetta explores an enormous range of emotions and topics. Travel with her as she moves from illness, death, loss, and grief to renewed hope, security, and serenity.
For sale in e-book ($2.99) and print ($7.95) from Amazon, Smashwords, and other online sellers.
Full details and buying links: http://www.dvorkin.com/annchiappetta/

Ann Chiappetta’s poems, articles, and short fiction have been published in both print and online circulations, most notably Dialogue magazine, Matilda Ziegler online magazine, and other small press reviews. Her poetry has been featured in Lucidity, Midwest Poetry Review, Magnets and Ladders, and Breath & Shadow. She is also a contributing editor of the last-named publication.
Ann holds a Master of Science degree in marriage and family therapy and currently practices as a readjustment counseling therapist for the Department of Veterans Affairs.
She lives in New Rochelle, New York with her husband, daughter, and assortment of pets.
To read more of her writing, go to www.thought-wheel.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annie.chiappetta
Follow Ann on Twitter: AnnieDungareesHere It Is Folks!

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

How Cool Is This?

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem writing

This is an update on the book project. I am happy to announce that my first book of poems, titled, Upwelling: poems by Ann Chiappetta will be available soon in both eBook and printed versions. It is 61 pages. The photo of the orchid in black and white for the front cover and the black and white photo of Verona, my first guide dog as well as the author pic were taken by my talented sister, Cheryll Romanek. I wish I could share them here bbut I have to save them for the book. The book is dedicated to our Mom, Mary, who died last July from lymphoma.

How did I get this far? I used the three P’s: practice, patience and perseverance. First, I wrote, re-wrote and wrote even more. I recall a televised interview with Michael Crighton which has stayed with me. When asked by a fan how to become a great writer, he said, “you have to write,”. I spent years offering up my work to other writers in critique groups and revised again. I read many poems, took verse writing classes, and concentrated on perfecting the art form. I performed each poem until I was satisfied with how it sounded read aloud as well as how it appeared on the page. This took many years.

Next, I spent a year researching possible self-publishing options, prices, and used the consumer-driven power within to call and email questions, and rejected all but one publisher. Let me tell you, folks, it doesn’t matter whether you are a Rhodes scholar or Mr. Salt of the Earth, if you can pay, you can print and sell a book.

In my inexperienced mind, I was put off by this shadow world of the vanity press at first; one didn’t need talent, only enough words to fill at least 50 pages and the credit card to foot the bill. I was turned off, to be blunt. How would my work, which I thought had merit and meaning and most of all, potential, compare and stand out against some of these other authors who had the money to pay big bookmakers?

I was disillusioned. I didn’t have that kind of money. Before that, I tried doing my own desktop publishing, but depending upon friends to “get back” to me was just unrealistic and a burden on the friendship. I could not access the software myself and had to rely on a third person to create the correct format, etc. One printer even refused to handle the black and white prints, which was frustrating to both me and my sister. Another printing company sent me a 75-page instruction book that was more like a programming guide – the techno-speak and desktop tasks were like a foreign language.
I eventually put my big girl boots on and scraped up enough money to pay for editing services and moved on. I did not want my project to interfere with our friendship, so I left well enough alone, so to speak.

I made sure the words were just how I wanted them, then I began the search for the right editor. I also did another thing that ended up being the most helpful: reading books by other authors like me who are good writers and who have already published by looking up the publishers and/or the printing companies. This was the most rewarding step and the last researching piece of the book publishing puzzle falling into place. I am a writer who is blind, I cannot appreciate the visual aesthetics of desktop publishing. I can, however, find the right kind of help to accomplish the task.

What I can say about the process is once you connect with the right people, it will all quickly fall together, so be ready. It may even seem surreal, after plowing for what may have seemed like eons searching for the right people, to be led down a path of dead ends, to expect yet another disappointment, and then be swept up and carried away is quite a pleasant shock.
Yes, it is that exciting, at least for me, but I am a thrill seeker anyway. Wheeee!

And now we are here, getting ready to announce a slim volume of poems written after I began losing my vision. The subjects are varied, just like life. Love, loss, hope, hurt, joy, faith, lust, rejection, trust, trauma, reflections of the human condition. Each poem contributes to the upwelling of emotion and feeling I have touched upon while writing the prose.
I hope you will buy the book, of course, but most of all, I want this book to help heal or change something for the person reading it. I want to hear about the transformative value this book may have upon another person.
Thanks to Lenore for her expert editing, www.leonoredvorkin.com
to David Dworkinwww.dvorkin.com
for his technical expertise and services, and to Patty Fletcher http://www.dvorkin.com/pattyfletcher/
for indirectly leading me to the Dworkins from her book, Campbell’s Rambles.

Stay tuned for other updates and the official release of Upwelling.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Not Lost in Translation

| Filed under Guide dogs writing

Today Bailey and I went out to run some errends. On our walk we encountered construction blocking the sidewalk. The first blockde was fairly easy – Bailey took us to it, I figured out what it was, directed him to find the way around it. He took me to the curb, then went into the street during the lull in traffic, and back onto the side walk where it was clear. A dozen steps further, however, we got stuck. Not only was there another barrier, but a huge truck was parked at the curb, so we were unable to navigate like we did the first time. As I stood at the curb, deciding on back tracking and crossing one block down and to come back up on the other side of the street, a man approached me. He spoke no English but offered his elbow. Talk about a true gift. I nodded my thanks, and he expertly guided me to the curb on the opposite side of the street. Once safely across, he babbled something as if to say, it was safe now and I smiled, patted his arm and thanked him. Thank you, whoever you are, you just made my day.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

The Fluidity of Guide Dogs For Those Who Don’t Know

| Filed under Guide dogs writing

Just the other day I was asked by a friend what was the difference between walking with a white cane versus a guide dog. I thought about it for a long time, eventually giving them a standard and uncomplicated answer: a cane detects things, a guide dog avoids them.

Later on in the week I thought about the question again, and knowing I needed to write another post for my blog, I decided to expand upon the question.
I asked myself, what are the most difficult challenges while finding my way around the environment and how does a dog help more than a cane? I will also state here that I am still a cane user. I, doo in fact use my cane at least once every day or at night to keep in practice. I do not condone giving up cane skills for guiding skills. As a person with a visual disability, I need all the tools I can acquire to be as independent as possible and having both a dog and being able to pick up a cane and use it confidently keeps in line with this personal philosophy.

Okay, now that the “I don’t Hate White Canes” disclaimer has been stated, we can now move onto the main idea of the post: what I find more natural and why.
While first learning to use a cane, I learned how much navigating I could tolerate and I was disappointed to discover I could not mentally tolerate more than an hour of independent walking and way finding with just myself and the cane. Sure, I could tap around a hotel, store, or familiar place without a serious drain on my brain power. The drain came when I was out on the street going from point A to point B and the attention it required. I would call it hyper awareness that took absolute control at all times or I would risk tripping, falling, or getting lost. I will also tell you, constant reader, that I suffer from a mild traumatic brain injury and since the injury, I do have some trouble with coordination and multi tasking. Using a cane just hurt my head.

Working a dog requires awareness, better than average way finding skills and complete trust in the dog’s ability to guide. Some of the same tools, yet also a different feeling altogether. Yes, it is different physically, but it is also freeing, once you get the hang of it. The dance is graceful, like a waltz, rather than the herky jerk of the jitterbug. The team is more than one person and an unfeeling object; the dog listens to you, you listen to the dog and together way finding becomes more accurate, relaxed and even fun. I don’t know about you, but I never confided in my cane that I had fun finding my way around that parking lot safely or thanking my cane for getting us past that broken up sidewalk without a scratch or twisted ankle. Plus, unlike a cane, working with the dog didn’t hurt my head.

Below are some examples I no longer find unsafe or anxiety provoking thanks to my canine companion that, if I used a cane, would be more difficult and even a bit of a hazard.

Hallways and corridors. Those hospital or nursing home halls sometimes cluttered with beds, wheelchairs, and food/medication carts don’t matter, we just step around it all with quiet ease. No tapping, clanging on objects or other patients’ ankles. Have you ever knocked over a blood pressure station, you know, the ones that roll around and rattle when moved? I don’t worry about doing that again thanks to my dog.

Hotel corridors strewn with those pesky cleaning carts, armed with protruding spray bottles and broom handles, vacuum cords, and room service trays. No issues here, except maybe a leave it command not to sniff the leftover food trays on the floor.

Motels are also a challenge unless your dog can find the door to the room so you don’t have to trail the wall and risk hitting someone while passing their door. Yes, folks, I was trailing the wall while in a motel and as I passed my hand across a door, it opened, and I accidentally groped a woman’s booby shelf. “nuff said. A dog will target your door and take you to it so you don’t need to trail a wall to find it.

Routes without sidewalks, while taking more practice, are much more easily traversed when the dog does the shore lining. For those who don’t know, shore lining is a phrase describing how to follow the path by finding the natural grass line or shoulder boarding a road. Cane users must keep in constant touch with it or risk veering out into traffic or other hazards. A dog will keep to the line of travel and when prompted, will also bring the team to it and remain there while traffic passes, then resume the line of travel upon command.

I have taught my dogs to find people by name, like “Daddy” and by the names of other dogs. That is handy when in a crowded room or finding one’s way back from the restroom.

Finding the checkout counter in a store is another cool thing, along with finding the steps, elevator, door, chair, bathroom and other locations that make a huge difference in the mutability of life while passing through it.

If the explanations above don’t convince you, that in most circumstances, a dog is safer than a cane, maybe these will:
Have you ever had your cane tip snapped off by a car turning right on red? I have, I’ve also had it snatched from my hand and broken by a turning car and a speeding bicycle. My dog, like many other dogs before him, have pushed, pulled, or shoved their handlers away from danger. Each time this happens, I am reminded of the first time my dog pulled me from being hit by a car and it still makes me get emotional.

A white cane can’t be thanked or petted. Or make choices that keep you safe. Or let your mind feel relaxed while walking through a quiet street. Or feel less anxious when traveling through a crowd. Or help you traverse a train platform or airport terminal filled with people, bags and strollers.

After traveling for extended periods with my cane, I’d be mentally exhausted, as if I just been through a 400 question math exam. The level of concentration, for me, was tremendous and I would often suffer from headaches and fatigue when traveling at night, too.

My dog helped mitigate all of it. The only part I work on is night travel and this is only because I now suffer from vertigo, which is worse at night.

Yes, using a cane or a dog is a skill set that takes time to learn and a good amount of practice. Either will keep one safe but in my opinion, a white cane has a more frequent user failure. What I mean is even if I think it is safe, my dog will evaluate my decision and, if necessary, divert us from a potentially harmful result. A white cane does not have this fail safe and cannot use intelligent disobedience. Who coined the phrase two heads are better than one? Simple and totally apropos for team work.

I hope you’ve learned a little bit more about what it means to live with and work with a dog. I also hope you’ve appreciated the effort and time it takes to learn to travel without the benefit of sight. Thanks for reading.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

The Little Things in Life

| Filed under Guide dogs writing

The little Things in Life

This morning I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I was feeling sorry for myself. I was frustrated about not being able to control what menopause is doing to my body, what the asthma meds are doing to my metabolism and so on. I just felt ugly and fat.
Even my husband said he wasn’t going to comfort me because I was feeling sorry for myself.

I moped around until it was time to go to physical therapy. After PT, I sat in the waiting area with my guide dog at my feet. I’d already fended off another patient who wanted to pet him saying, oh, he’s the spitting image of my dog, Ollie, etc., and was eating a granola bar while waiting for my ride to work.

A little girl about 3 years old was being watched by staff as her Mom was getting treatment. She wandered over to me and asked me the best questions a youngling could have asked. I must say, I was impressed.

She asked why the dog was there, to which I replied, he is my eyes, I am blind and can’t see. She asked what the thing was around his neck and back and I told her about the harness and how it helped me. She asked why she can’t pet him and I said he has to be able to help me and not get distracted. She took all of it in and after she finished checking us out she returned to her mom.

The woman mentioned earlier who kept asking me if she could pet Bailey bent to pet him and the girl said, “You can’t pet him he’s working,”
I almost burst out laughing. I wish I could have seen that woman’s face. Lol

I thanked the girl and said that not petting the dog while he’s working was the right thing to do. If I was her Mom, I’d be proud. It lifted my spirits, for sure.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Where Have I Been?

| Filed under Guide dogs Poem writing

I haven’t blogged in a while, so here’s a long awaited update. First, I want to tell you all I am in the process of printing my first poetry book. After months of researching publishing options, pricing, and technical limitations, I decided to self-publish. I cannot afford a robust publishing contract, so I turned to printing companies who specialize in copy printing and on demand distribution instead. This was much less stressful on the wallet but I am doing a lot of the set up with the help of friends who have experience in desk top printing. I have chosen the title, cover, poems, and am now waiting for the copy and formatting to come along.

The result will be a simple 6 x 9 fold over and stapled booklet, probably about 40 pages. I will be registering it for an ISBN # and it will be for sale on Amazon and other online booksellers once it is released. I will be writing the press release and selling it, another cost I just didn’t have money to pay someone else to do for me. Best of all, I will be dedicating it to Mom, who was always my biggest fan and a wonderful writer as well. Thanks to the years working on the PR committee for American Council of the Blind and other organizations, I have experience with promoting and using social media to help me.

I’m actually excited to be doing this, can’t wait to take part in a reading and meet folks.

Will people be surprised I am blind? Hopefully they will look at the back cover and see the photo of Bailey and I and not make too much out of it. I also thought of just how much I wish to use my disability as a selling point. I don’t. I want folks to want to read it based on my talent, not because I am a talented blind person. I am a poet and writer who is blind, not a blind poet and writer. Semantics? Perhaps but important to me and to the blindness community as a whole.

Okay, enough for now, I will post more when I get to the next step in the process. Until then, celebrate our Independence and have a great summer.

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

The Dog Swap

| Filed under Guide dogs writing

Six years ago began my journey as a guide dog user. I remember dog day with the clarity only a poignant memory can convey. Verona came into my room, I felt her head, stroked her ears, and my life changed forever. One snapshot, one touch, and now I am once again writing about another first, dog two.

 

This time was a bit different. The 2015 matching process had advanced and we were pre-matched, which provided an entire day to just get to know our dogs before hitting the pavement.

So, on a cold and windy Monday afternoon, once completing the Juno walk, the instructor swapped out the empty harness with a dog. I reached out for the leash and was rewarded with a lick on the hand and a wiggly body against my leg.

“He is a yellow lab and likes to lick,” said the instructor after our damp introduction. I smiled. I did like the way he was leaning against me, not too aloof. I liked that in a dog. I don’t like licking but it certainly wasn’t a deal breaker, as they say. Was this going to be my new partner? I didn’t have time to ponder it, because I lined up and said Forward, and off we went. We took off down the street and I realized that I liked what I felt. His pace was good, I liked what I felt in the handle, too. My first dog had almost no pull just prior to her retirement and I had to work hard at reading her body language. We got back to the training lounge and when the instructor asked if I liked the dog, I said yes, that he seemed like a sweet dog and he was a good pace for me. In two dozen words and a few blocks later, I knew I would be matched with this dog.

 

By the time you read this, Bailey and I will be celebrating our one year anniversary and he will have hopefully have gained a more mature doggie perspective on the world. Right now, though, he is still a spirited adolescent, requiring equal amounts of discipline and tolerance as he matures.

 

He is distracted by the pigeons a bit more than I’d like but at least now I pick up on it. I know he is a labra-goat, and I am better prepared for his propensity to investigate all manner of things with his mouth. He makes me laugh with these puppy-like antics, too. Well, not the snarking, but the other silly, innocent things like the way he rubs against a leg for petting and how he plants a full tongue Monty on your face if you lean down within reach. When it takes someone off-guard, I think it is a riot. I think, you entered the danger zone, friend, he’s going to get you.

 

Finally, so far, the transition from dog one to dog two has been a less harrowing experience than anticipated; I am glad this dog is so different, it helped me make the swap a bit more exciting and less negative. My family has also been part of this dog swap thing and both my husband and daughter understand it because they have witnessed all the stages in the process from Verona’s retirement to bringing home Bailey. As hard as it was for me, my family also had to adjust, get through the emotions of watching me leave for work without Verona and be left witnessing her distress after I left for the day. My husband would say, “Honey, she’s moping,” or my daughter would say, “Mom, the look on her face when you walk out without her breaks my heart,” It was deeply troubling but I kept calling for updates and after a month, Verona began to depend upon my husband more and me less.

 

Fast forward and here we are, Verona will soon be nine, Bailey has settled in, and even my pet dog, Nikka, has accepted it all albeit with a grumpy, senior dog acceptance.

I am looking forward to finding another special dog themed ornament for my Christmas tree and celebrating another doggie birthday next April. Most of all, I am hoping some of Bailey’s distractions and snarking improves as he grows from a spirited adolescent into a noble and loyal dog with a splash of the Irish   cream for coloring and Irish spirit in his boisterous heart.

 

 

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

No Room on the Bed

| Filed under Guide dogs writing

 

No Room on the Bed

This morning, like any morning in the here and now, I get up and begin preparing for work. Jerry, my husband, is sleeping, surrounded by three other reclining canine usurpers. I stand at the foot of the queen sized bed and think, we really need a king, California king, in fact. I know this is a pipe dream, as it would never fit in our long, narrow bedroom. But, I can wish, and hope one day we will eventually be able to get one.

 

The three dog balls we managed to acquire on the bed all have unique stories. Some people say our animals choose us and we blithely go along for the ride. Whether its karma or unrealized longing that puts people and animals together, I think that at least some of the pairing is divine intervention and the other part is purposeful choice.

 

As I contemplate how we somehow became a three dog household, I reach out and stroke each head, marvel at the velvety soft ears, run a hand along the back, fingertips feeling the vertebrae curled into a tucked sleeping position. How do they do that? That can’t possibly be comfortable, can it?

 

One dog is curled up against my pillow, one is curled up at the foot of the bed and the third is curled up against Jerry’s leg.

 

I listen to soft doggie breathing accompanied by Jerry’s snores and I get all mushy inside. This is our family, we are the pack and the Beauty Rest queen bed is the den, the most relaxing place to be together.

 

If I returned to bed, at least one pooch has to move onto the dog bed on the floor beside the bed so I can fit. All I have to do is touch the dog and point to the dog bed and with a grunt, I get my place back. No fuss, no muss, and best of all, pre-warmed.

I was raised in a home that believed a dog belonged on the floor, not on the furniture. Then I met Jerry and Blackie, his 2 year-old pit bull terrier mix and soon after we began cohabitating, I resigned myself to sharing the bed with both of them. After Blackie died, we adopted two puppies and I tried to assert the no bed rule but was overruled by Jerry and the kids. Back then, I still removed the dog from my side and they each learned that if I was on the bed, only one was allowed up or risk being pushed off. Then, one time, as I was lying in bed sick, Rocky came up on the bed and curled up beside me, laying his head on my chest. Until then, I’d never been touched both inwardly and outwardly by a dog. He was comforting me and I felt a connection.

 

Thanks to Rocky, I know can’t ever bar my dogs from the bed unless it is physically distressing for me. I will put up with the hair and extra cleaning in order to keep that unique connection with the dogs in my life. Even when Jerry grumbles, “Where am I going to sleep?” in mock seriousness, I smile, knowing he’s just being Jerry. A touch, a gesture, and sometimes an extra word is said, and paws slide to the floor and Jerry slips in beside me, his place pre-warmed.

 

 

 

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0

Orbs and Evangelists

| Filed under Guide dogs writing

Orbs and Evangelists

 

Yesterday myself and two other folks visited a few conference centers to find out which one would be best for an upcoming event. I had visited the first location four years ago while I was working Verona, my first guide dog.  Back then, I thought it was a little challenging but not overly so. This time, though, I had a much harder time navigating the indoor and outdoor areas. At the time, I didn’t understand why, just that I felt as if I’d never been there before; nothing had changed except for the time of year, so I was indeed perplexed about my reaction.

 

Then, last night, I thought back on the possibilities and one thing kept coming up in my mind: my vision loss and how much it has declined.

 

Five years ago, my vision was better. Now, after a comparison like once again visiting the conference center, I got a reality check. Big time.

 

RP is a progressive retinal eye disease that has no cure and steals vision over time. Over the last 30 years I’ve gone from using glasses and seeing color and large print to becoming night blind, losing central vision and going color blind. Three years ago I packed up the CCTV, too, unable to read even the capital E on the screen an inch from my nose. I am also working my second guide dog, having obtained the first one in 2009.

 

Now, my light perception is limited and often I prefer to keep my eyes closed, relying more and more upon my other senses.

 

I understand why I felt so awkward; I was trying to recall things and details about the venue that are gone due to the additional decompensation of these broken orbs. I am accepting of it, after all, I can’t change what’s happening nor can I control it, even with treatment. I’ve been fortunate to have lived half of my life with sight, now I am living it without the benefit of it and it’s made me a better person.

  • * *
  • Now, in a most complimentary fashion, I give you a slice of life on the short bus:

 

Okay, I am on the para transit bus, the driver and I are talking. He starts driving. Then he asks,

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

I smile to myself, knowing if I bet myself a dollar he’s going to ask me something about being blind, that I’d surely win two dollars and buy a coffee.

I say yes, what is the question.

“Were you born blind?”

I say no, I always had poor vision but I didn’t lose a large portion of it until age 28.

 

He goes on to ask me if I miss not seeing. I say sometimes I do but mostly, I am happy and do fine without it. At this point I’m not quite sure what he’s building up to – maybe to ask about a friend or some other well-meaning but ignorant statement. I’ve heard them all and after many years, it doesn’t really bother me much anymore.

To my surprise, he says,

“You know, my wife and me, we are Christians, and on weekends we find people and pray with them, you know, on the street,”

I nod and think, Oh boy, he is a charismatic Christian like the guy who walked beside me on the street last year and wanted to heal my eyes.

Anyway, he asks my permission to pray to heal my eyes and I say okay, he can do it.

He starts speaking, then ends with a sincere and confident intonation, asking,

“Can you see yet?”

I want to laugh, tell him, Mister, last year, your colleague has done this before and it didn’t work then. Hey, I love Jesus, believe he died for our sins, but even He can’t heal DNA.

But all I say is,

“No,”

He asks if he can do it again, and suddenly I find myself trying not to laugh, thinking why would it work the second time? Last year, his colleague got to pray for me for an entire city block and I am still blind.

He wraps up the prayer with another strident request and asks,

“Can you see?”

Now, I am going to admit, I was going to go all Sarah and Her Vassals evangelical on him, roll my eyes, pretend to spasm and speak in tongues, but all I actually said was,

“No,”

The bloated silence in the bus was kind of sad, and could probably be adapted for a SNL skit. It was also annoying but not enough to ruin my day or the potential for an ironically humorous moment. I let the silence hang for an instant longer before I remembered the grace is part of acceptance and let the guy off the hook. I say,

“You know, I believe God only gives you what you can handle, and since He thinks I can handle being blind, I choose to accept that and be happy. I’d rather that you pray for my health and happiness, not to see again,”

And that, my constant readers, was the end of that conversation. Blessed Be.

 

 

by Ann Chiappetta | tags : | 0