Are you dealing with disappointment over rejection you’ve experienced when attempting to start a romantic relationship with someone you were interested in? Is the disappointment causing you to question your overall worth and value? If so, you may benefit from the insights I offer below.

When I was much younger, I experienced a couple of rejections when trying to find a girl who was interested in me. Mind you, these occasions were separate from the ones where I rushed into relationships prematurely, as I previously mentioned in a few different pieces. I’m now talking about times when I made my feelings known and did not get the desired reciprocation from the other side. I must admit, I was disappointed and disillusioned by these rejections. While today I no longer feel the pain I felt then, I still clearly remember how dejected I was at that time; so much so that I allowed these rejections/losses to make me question my worth and lower my self-esteem. All this, simply because on a couple of occasions, someone I had come to care for a lot did not turn out to have the same interest in me. In both cases, each of which involved a different person, they liked me as a friend and nothing more. I let myself think it was all because of me, that I somehow wasn’t enough for people, nor was I sure I ever would be. I struggled to figure out what exactly my problem was. After all, I’d done my best to be kind and not behave in an unbecoming manner. Though I managed to keep making my way through life in this dejected, self-deprecating state of mind, it’s clear in retrospect that this way of thinking was robbing me of much of life’s joy and satisfaction. My hope of ever finding someone to share my life with took a huge nosedive.

Quite some time later, when I finally found my partner/fiancé, I came to realize that some things are just truly meant to be, and others just aren’t. There was no reason whatsoever to measure my value and sense of worth by these disappointments. This realization is the very point to which I want to draw your attention.

Rejection is never easy, and disappointment is always difficult, especially at the start. But you don’t have to use such painful moments as a means of measuring your self-worth. Sure, there are always things you can learn from disappointments and heartbreaks. I grew and gained plenty of wisdom from the ones I experienced. There is always room for self-improvement, growth, and personal development. Each of us should certainly acknowledge and resolve any/all personal issues we may be dealing with, be they emotional, behavioral, you name it. Nevertheless, you should not immediately write yourself off as not enough, undesirable, or unappealing, just because of a few rejections, or even failed relationships. Instead, you ought to be assured that in spite of the disappointments you may experience, your worth remains unchanged. Instead of lowering your self-esteem like I did for a while, you ought to keep your head held high and enjoy life to the full while everything else gets sorted out.

Also, you ought to consider the fact that there are truly things which are meant to be, and things that are not. It often takes time before we find out exactly which is which, but this, in my opinion, is a very important factor to consider.

You may desire to have a relationship with someone who in contrast simply wants to be your friend. Though this reality may be difficult for you to accept at first, could it be possible that in the long run, the two of you may be better off as friends than anything more, and that you may find someone down the line with whom you are far more compatible and truly “meant” to build something deeper?

I do hope this perspective motivates you to think twice before you start measuring your self-worth by your success or lack thereof in attempting a relationship. To further illustrate my point, One of my favorite bands of all time is the Dave Matthews Band. I greatly enjoy their music, as many people do. Yet there are obviously those who are not into that type of music, and whose tastes it doesn’t quite suit. Does the fact that DMB’s music isn’t appealing to everybody make their worth and value as musicians any less than it is? Absolutely not. You can take this analogy and apply it to your favorite musician or artist. After all, musicians/artists are normal human beings just like us. Furthermore, you can take this analogy and apply it to yourself. Just because a few people haven’t shown the same interest in you as you have in them, your worth is not at all affected. On the contrary, it remains totally unchanged. It simply depends on how you choose to view your worth.

You do not have to be popular and have everybody and their brother/sister chasing you left and right in order to be worth it and to mean something. I am not at all against influence and popularity. I just don’t believe they are good things by which to measure our own worth. I, for one, am now very glad I didn’t have many girls running after me when I was younger, as that would have made it more difficult than it already was to make wise, solid choices.

As I see it, the best thing you can do is simply keep being yourself, all the while growing and developing in the areas where it’s necessary. Just because you experience a few failures, disappointments, and bumps in the road, doesn’t mean these things have to define you. Your value is no different than that of anyone else, and your worth remains unchanged.

Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to write a response below with your thoughts on the matter, and to share this article with others.

When loved ones pass away, their absence leaves a huge whole in our hearts that seems impossible to heal. We experience pain that we can’t imagine ever leaving, especially at the start when the loss is fresh. The act of moving forward every day, putting one foot in front of the other, becomes extremely challenging.

As I found out after my Mom left this world in 2004, there’s never a point where we totally stop missing deceased loved ones. There will always be moments of nostalgia when we think about them and remember the wonderful times we had with them. But, as I also found out, it is possible to get to a place where such nostalgic moments can be pleasant instead of sorrowful; happy instead of sad.

Is it feasible to heal from grief? Absolutely! But it does take time, just like the healing of a physical sickness or wound takes time. Different people go through different processes, so no one can put an exact time stamp on the process of every single grieving person. However, there are definite signs that the healing process is underway and progressing. In this article I will share 3 of them. You may find some of these signs more relatable to you than others. Nevertheless, I do hope you gain some helpful insight from what I share here, which is entirely based on the process I went through.

1 The gradual diminishing of repercussions from the trauma you went through.

The trauma brought on by grief and loss manifests differently from case to case. To name a couple of common repercussions, some people deal with panic attacks, and others deal with bad dreams/nightmares. For a long time after my mother left this world, I often had bad dreams where I would relive her illness and our inability to ease her pain and make her better. Those dreams always cast a dark cloud over the new day I had to face once I was awake. Thankfully, I never had them on a nightly basis. But at the start, when the loss was fresh, I would have them a few times per week. More time passed, and I got to where they occurred a few times per month. But as the healing process continued over a period of several years, the dreams became more and more rare. I now only have them a few times per year, and when they come, they don’t weigh on me as much as they used to. It is now much easier for me to just brush them off, fill my mind with positive thoughts, and plunge into the new day ahead. This progress was definitely made gradually and over time, but I’m very grateful for it. While the dreams have not totally disappeared yet, I am confident that they eventually will. But one thing for sure: they no longer overwhelm me the way they used to.

2 You start enjoying memories reminders of your departed loved ones instead of being saddened by them.

For the first several years after my Mom left us, I distanced myself from things that reminded me of her, as they would make me very sad. For example, being as she was from the Philippines, she cooked a lot of Filipino food while living. After she died, I did not have that type of food very often. But whenever I did, I could not enjoy it. Sometimes my Dad would make it, or I would have it whenever we visited Mom’s side of the family, which was not all that often. But whatever it was, eating that type of food would always trigger sadness inside me that was hard to bounce back from. Similarly, for a while I did not keep in regular touch with Mom’s side of the family, because there were just too many memories that made me feel sadly nostalgic. I did not feel comfortable speaking with them on the phone or going to visit them, but I occasionally did these things anyway just so nobody would think bad of me, However, it was always very, very difficult.

Today, not only do I enjoy Filipino food as much as I did when Mom was living. I also regularly make trips all on my own to visit my aunts, uncles, and cousins on her side of the family. I used to only do this when important events came up, such as weddings, graduations, funerals, etc. I always went along with my dad and/or my brothers. Now I no longer wait for occasions like these to spend time with relatives from that side. Rather, I look for opportunities to do so. I really enjoy such visits, and so do they. In between visits, I call and text them regularly. Why? Because their company no longer saddens me. Sure, it still causes memories of my mother to surface, and we talk about them whenever we get together. But I now enjoy such moments and memories instead of avoiding them. The resultant nostalgia is no longer sad. It is instead happy and refreshing.

3 You find yourself helping and encouraging others who are grieving loss.

When my Mother’s loss was fresh, I got a lot of helpful advice from my Grandparents, both of whom had lost their parents, along with other family members, before I was even born. They made it through the grieving process and managed to continue on with their lives, and they encouraged me that I would in the end be able to do the same. Now, over 20 years later, I am able to offer the same kind of encouragement to others. When I do this, it is honestly not forced. It is genuine and heartfelt. The ability to offer encouragement and support to others who are on the same journey as I was, is extremely satisfying and fulfilling for me.

These 3 signs we just explored are by no means the only signs of healing from grief and loss. But they were the main ones I experienced on my journey. All I did was take it one day at a time, sort of like the way a long journey is taken one lonely mile at a time, until the road signs start pointing towards the desired destination. I believe with all my heart that you, too, can come to a place where these same signs of healing, and many more, start manifesting in your life, if you just hang tight and likewise take it one day at a time.

Perhaps you already are experiencing some of the signs of healing mentioned above. If so, I’d love to know which ones. Also, if you can think of additional signs of healing from grief, feel free to mention them in the comments below.

Thank you so much for reading. If you are dealing with grief and loss, I hope and pray you’ve been encouraged by this article. If you’d like to read more about my personal healing journey, you can check out my series, From Grief to Joy, right here on medium.

Several years ago, I was in a relationship that didn’t end up working out, and the severance of it was very painful. Shortly thereafter, a well-meaning friend prayed out loud for me, asking God to help me not let this disappointment stop me from opening my heart again. In addition, this friend asked God to show them if they should get involved with helping me find someone else. Despite the obvious good intentions, I thought this person was really pushing the envelope, to put it politely. I did not respond right then with words, because I was pretty sure the angry, disgusted look on my face said it all. It was meant to clearly communicate the message that I, and I alone, decide when/if I want to ever open my heart again; thank you very much.

I managed to let the incident pass without being affected or influenced by it. Because I’d been through two breakups that had taken place about a year apart from each other, I waited for what I thought would be an indefinite period of time, but turned out to last around 5 years, before attempting another relationship. Meanwhile, Several people kept telling me I should start dating again. Others expressed their confidence that I would soon find someone to spend the rest of my life with. I knew they meant well, and I appreciated their good intentions. But I also knew I still needed ample time to fully recover from the failed attempt. Therefore, I did not let their words dictate my life. While I did get hit with occasional moments of loneliness during this process, the bigger part of me enjoyed the solitude. This period of being alone was a journey of much healing, learning, and self-discovery.

Afterwards, when I eventually chose to get into another relationship, I was ready for it. This one finally lasted, and it’s still going strong today. What is more, I stayed true to the message I’d tried to convey to my friend earlier. I, and I alone, decided when I was ready to open my heart again. I do believe in seeking divine guidance, and I took personal responsibility to do so. I also decided all on my own who to approach physically for help and advice.

I don’t want to come down too hard on people like my well-meaning friend, because I once was in the same place as they; a place of wanting to help “fix” things for people and solve their problems. It’s normal for our hearts to go out to our friends and loved ones when they are hurting. We should by all means do whatever we can to encourage, support, and comfort them. The problem occurs when we switch from simply being there for them to placing expectations on them, trying to persuade them to take steps they aren’t ready to take. This strong desire to “fix” everything for those we care about is an unrealistic expectation. Some of us even go so far as wanting to take credit for helping people make it through their difficulties. We want to be able to say things like, “This couple got together because I introduced them.” Our original desire to help people suddenly becomes a reason to chase after self-validation and to boost our ego. I know what I’m talking about because I had this very attitude at one time.

It’s good to accompany those we care about in their moment of need, when they are heartbroken and grief-stricken. Our presence in their lives can help keep them on their feet and reassure them that they are not alone In what they’re going through. But we cannot solve all their problems all the time, nor are we meant to. When we attempt to do so by repeatedly telling them things like, “You should start dating again,” or “you should get married again,” we are trying to set the pace for their emotional healing and recovery which should be left entirely up to them. If they are happy, content, and productive on their own for the time being, we should respect their right to remain that way without trying to take it from them. The space they desire could very well be exactly what they need in order to properly heal and recover emotionally.

When we try too hard to help people bounce back quickly, we can end up making their pain worse than it already is. For instance, we may say to someone who just lost their spouse/significant other, either through breakup or bereavement, “Come to this social event with me. Maybe you’ll meet someone new.” Such remarks are often made in gest and meant to be funny. But to the grieving person, they may come across as presumptuous, insensitive, and embarrassing. Such behavior can be very damaging to friendships, although the intention may be to the contrary.

Repeated attempts at setups and matchmaking can also greatly irritate and annoy grieving people, especially when such gestures are not desired. During the 5-year period of recovery I went through before connecting with my partner/fiancé, the same well-meaning friend mentioned above tried to set me up with someone. I did not go for it, and to this day, I am extremely glad.

In conclusion, I would like to offer two words of advice. The first is for those who are grieving loss and heartbreak. Take all the time you need to fully heal, recuperate, and recover emotionally. When I was finally ready to reenter the relationship arena, I did so very slowly and carefully. (Related story: The Time Factor) Do not let yourself get pressured by others into making any leaps you aren’t prepared to make. If you do, you may initially make others happy, at least for a while, only to end up hurting yourself all over again. Take ownership of your life instead of letting others do it for you. If for whatever reason you prefer to just remain alone, so be it. It’s your choice and no one else’s. At the end of the day, you aren’t responsible for anyone’s happiness but yours.

Second, to those with grieving friends and loved ones who you are helping to console after a major loss or heartbreak, it’s best to avoid pressuring them and putting expectations on them. Give them their time and space to fully heal and recover from the trauma they’ve been through, knowing that you would likely want the same from them, should the tables turn. Let them pick up the pieces and move on at their own pace without trying to set the pace for them. Consolation is not expectation. It is compassion, encouragement, and comfort.

Thanks so much for reading. If this piece resonates with you, please consider sharing it with others, and feel free to comment below with your thoughts.

I sat at the table I used as a desk, on which my laptop was sitting open in front of me. I was connected on Skype with my then girlfriend, now fiancé. A guitar was on my lap, and I finger-picked and sang. I had just learned to play the song, “Blackbird,” by the Beatles. I was proud of myself for this, and I was giving my partner a real-time demonstration of what I’d invested great effort into perfecting. Once finished, I anxiously awaited her applause and commendation which she had so far offered very generously whenever I played songs for her. But instead, she said, “Well, personally, I don’t like it that much.” She said this in a very matter-of-fact way, no meanness whatsoever in her voice.

For a fleeting moment, my ego was completely deflated by her reaction. I wondered what had gone wrong. I’d practiced a lot before this performance and, since this song holds special meaning for me, I’d played and sung it from the depths of my heart. Yet it hadn’t impressed her, as had other songs I played for her which didn’t have nearly as much meaning to me. But I was quickly able to bounce back, move on, and not be affected by what she said.

This incident happened in the early stages of our relationship. From it, and from similar ones that have happened since, I learned something valuable and crucial that I want to share with you. Just because your partner isn’t always impressed by every single thing you do, doesn’t mean he/she loves or values you any less than he/she did before this attempt of yours to impress her/him. You should never gage your personal happiness, or the condition of your relationship by how often you manage to impress your partner, or how regularly you can get her/him to praise you and complement you. If you do, you’re in for a fluctuating, frustrating, disappointing ride.

I believe that for many of us, previously including myself, the constant desire to try harder than necessary to impress people doesn’t always derive from arrogance. It often stems from insecurity we feel deep inside about ourselves. We feel inadequate and we lack confidence. We hunger for validation, attention, and recognition. In hopes of obtaining all this, and thereby boosting our ego, we do the following, sometimes not initially realizing what exactly we’re doing. We allow the focus of our relationships to switch from one of mutually shared, unconditional love to one of performance and increased effort. Instead of simply being ourselves, we try to be more or better than we actually are so we can impress those we care about and make them praise us. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t; and when it doesn’t, we shouldn’t be mad at ourselves, nor our loved ones. We should remember that just because they may not always be impressed with us, this doesn’t mean they no longer love us, or that they are significantly disappointed in us. Some of the things we do or say may not always have the impact on them that we desire, but that’s usually because their tastes are different from ours when it comes to certain things, and they are just as entitled to their personal opinions, tastes, and preferences as we are to ours.

I’m not suggesting that it’s wrong to ever do something for or show something to your partner that you think might impress and resonate with him/her. There is definitely a time and place for this kind of interaction, and when it works out, it can be very satisfying and enjoyable. I’m just cautioning you not to overdo it like I did for a while. This will only serve to disappoint you and increase your stress level by sucking the joy out of your relationship. If the love between the two of you is genuine, your occasional failure to impress your partner would not change his/her love for you, and this ought to go both ways. There comes a time for us to focus less on performing and trying to impress, and more on just playing the role we were meant to play in the lives of our partners; that of loving them, valuing them, and being there for them. I can truly say that the more I make this change of focus, the freer I feel since I’m no longer concerned about trying to impress. I’m simply concentrating on being myself and doing my best every day. Lately I’ve been discovering that the more I focus on loving and caring for my partner and valuing her for who and what she is instead of trying to squeeze accolades and complements out of her, the more she admires and appreciates me, because I’m simply being who I am and playing my role instead of always seeking to satisfy my ego by constantly performing for her.

If you are like most people, including me, you don’t find it appealing to be around someone who is constantly showing off and seeking your admiration and that of those around you. This kind of attitude is a major turn-off and interest killer. I had to learn that this is the same attitude I am taking on when I go overboard trying to impress my partner. If two people truly love, respect, and accept each other just as they are, they shouldn’t have to focus on performance in order to maintain that mutual love and acceptance. They ought to be able to just focus on loving each other naturally and being themselves without trying to be anything or anyone else.

Again, I’m not saying that there are never times to impress and complement each other. What I’m saying is, such moments ought to come naturally instead of being forced. I’m also saying, don’t make performance your primary focus. Complements are wonderful, and it’s okay to appreciate them when they come. But don’t. try to force them or squeeze them out of people. Genuine relationships are about companionship, acceptance and love. Not performance, self-validation, or ego. While I am primarily addressing romantic relationships here, I think this general principle can apply to relations between families, relatives, and friends.

Thank you for reading this piece. Does it resonate or strike a chord with you? If so, please consider reposting it for others to read. I would also love to hear your thoughts.

It was a warm Spring day in April 2021. My brother Sam and I were on an outbound plane from Fort Wayne Indiana to Dallas Fort Worth, where we would catch a connecting flight to San Jose, California, which was to be my new place of residence. Though Dad knew my absence would be a big change for him, and we both cried while saying goodbye, he fully supported me in this move knowing it would be yet another step of progress towards my leading a more independent lifestyle. Though I was sad to be leaving him, Aunt Karen, and other friends from the League and the Workers, I knew I’d come back to visit as often as I could, and that Dad would also be out to visit us.

By the time the plane lifted off the ground, the sadness of saying goodbye was behind me and I was bubbling over with excitement. As we leveled off and began cruising towards Dallas, I leaned back in my seat, reflecting on all the events that had brought me to this point.

In late Summer of 2019, John had decided to get his own place in San Jose, California, about 35 minutes from Sam’s place, and he invited me to move in with him. He had talked about the idea back in 2003, while the 3 of us were seated in the apartment in LA listening to music that Thanksgiving night when we thought Mom would be gone in a matter of hours. But it had been meant for some time in the future, as he was not in a position to accomplish it right then. Now, several years later, it was finally happening, and I was elated.

I had gone there around Thanksgiving of 2019 to visit for a month and check out his new place. I stayed on through Christmas and New Year’s to try things out and get a feel for this new environment. The visit went very well, and when it was over, I knew without a doubt I was ready to go through with the move.

I had originally planned to do this in the fall of 2020. But as we all know, Covid struck at the beginning of the year, and no one could travel for a while. Because of this delay, I was able to be around when Grandma passed away in January 2021, for which I was very glad. She’d lived to be nearly 97.

By Spring of 2021, travel restrictions were considerably loosened, although there were still rules about social distancing, wearing masks in public, etc. While I was plenty used to flying alone, Sam decided to fly to Indiana, spend a few days there and bring me with him on his return flight. With all that had been going on because of the pandemic, including flight cancelations, everyone thought it would be best for me not to travel alone. This is how I ended up on the outbound plane with Sam, headed for Dallas.

As fate would have it, a situation occurred where we had to land in St. Louis for a while before continuing on to Dallas. This caused us to arrive in Dallas too late to catch our connecting flight to San Jose. But we were put up in a hotel for the night and arrived safely at our final destination the next day. (For more details about the situation that occurred, check out this related story.)

The adjustment process was certainly challenging, but I enjoyed it and I knew it was necessary. While living with Dad, there were times when he would go on trips out of town where I could not accompany him. So, I would stay with Aunt Karen while he was gone. But in preparation for my upcoming move, we decided to try giving it a shot with my staying at the apartment alone a few times, since Dad was never gone for more than a night or two. Thankfully, I felt no feelings of fear or anxiety about being home alone. I had become quite familiar with microwave cooking, and I always had plenty of food. I also had a cell phone, as did Dad.

These short periods when I was home alone helped me prepare for living with John. He regularly works out of town and is often gone for several days at a time. I was fully aware of this when deciding to make the big move.

Dad had put Braille labels on the microwave at the apartment, and John likewise put them on the one here. This is how I know which buttons to press. While he is here, John cooks plenty of good food that I can heat up when he’s gone. The good thing about microwave cooking is that it doesn’t involve fire.

I decided to get involved with the local center for the blind, called, Vista Center. (1) Because Covid was still lingering, there were no activities or events going on there at the time. But they held many virtual meetings on Zoom, including monthly webinars about the latest assistive technology. In one of those meetings, we were informed about an upcoming Zoom course on the use of Apple Voiceover. The event was titled, Voiceover In and Out. I originally wasn’t going to sign up, as I thought I already knew plenty about this software. But a small, yet compelling part of me kept insisting that I should take it. After all, it was free of charge. I figured I could potentially learn new things about Voiceover which I was not aware of.

I got signed up, and I attended the entire course which lasted several days. While many things I already knew were indeed taught, each session contained at least one useful thing I had not previously known, and my knowledge of Voiceover was greatly enhanced through this course. The folks who taught the course have a youtube channel with great content about Voiceover and other things. (2) (Related story: My Smart Journey Part 2)

To this day, I know without a doubt that signing up for this course was one of the best decisions I could have made. I’m glad I didn’t pay attention to the idea that I already knew enough and didn’t need further training. This reminds me of the warning given by one of the writers of the New Testament, that whoever thinks he knows something knows nothing as he ought to know. (3) This experience taught me that sometimes the best way to learn new things is to be willing to get back to the basics of what we already know.

Earlier in the story I mentioned a youtube channel I created for music after learning the use of the Garage Band app on iPhone. I created another youtube channel before that one, however. Here’s how it came about.

After learning to use screen-reading software in 2009, I came up with the idea of locating texts on my computer, either from the Bible or other books. Then I would plug headphones into the computer and repeat after the screen-reader while it reads the text. I had found a way to literally read out loud without the need for Braille. I did this a lot during Bible studies and other meetings.

In 2022 I decided to launch a youtube channel with recordings of myself narrating the King James Bible. I used the technique mentioned above, meanwhile recording myself with the Voice Memos app on my phone. Recordings made with this app can be easily edited, as I learned in the Voiceover In and Out course. Once the Memo was recorded, I would email it to myself, download it onto my computer, convert it into a video file, and upload it on youtube. This has been a very enjoyable, satisfying project that’s still in the works. So far, I have the entire new Testament recorded on this channel, and several Old Testament books as well. These recordings are more audio than visual, so each video has a picture of me on it as a thumbnail. I have also added some videos filmed live where I talk about different biblically based topics. Each book of the Bible has its own play list containing one video per chapter. There is also a playlist for the topic videos. While the channel is still growing and being updated, several people have subscribed to it, and I hope you check it out and subscribe as well. (3) ***

Right before the pandemic hit, Dad came up with a beautiful plan. His wish was that at the end of his life, he be laid to rest in a location in Northern California near us. Since he is also a military veteran, he made arrangements to be interred in a cemetery for veterans when his time comes. The place is fairly close to where we are, and he arranged for Mom’s remains to be moved there as well. So, while on a work trip to LA, John retrieved Mom’s urn from the cemetery there. But Covid struck before he could get it placed in the new location. So, the urn was at his new place for a while. In fact, it was still here when I moved in. The amazing thing was, touching the earn did not bother me in the least. As you may recall from a previous story in this series, I used to break down crying when I touched it shortly after Mom’s passing, before it was placed at the cemetery in LA. But now, all these years later, I felt no sadness whatsoever when touching it. Only total peace, knowing that the urn merely contains the ashes of what was her human shell, while her spirit is happy and free in eternity. The same peace, happiness, and joy fills me whenever we go visit her new resting place.

My Mother was appropriately named Joy, because of the endless joy and love she brought to our lives. For a while, I had allowed that joy to be stolen from me by grief that I wouldn’t let go of. Although it was a long journey from grief back to joy, it was truly a journey worth taking. The amazing thing is that the journey this series describes started and ended in California. When I moved out of California after Mom’s passing, I was struggling with grief and sorrow. When I returned several years later, I was totally free from all that, and my joy was restored.

Thank you so much for reading this series. I sincerely hope you have been encouraged, blessed, and comforted by it. This story is the conclusion of it. If you haven’t yet read the previous story in the series, you can find it here.

References

1. https://vistacenter.org/

2 https://www.youtube.com/@ttjtech

3 1 Corinthians 8:3

4. https://www.youtube.com/@biblewithstevegilb4169

Not long after our move to Indiana, Dad got me my first cell phone. It was an LG flip phone with a talking keyboard, as we did not yet know about talking software available to assist the blind and visually impaired with using touchscreens on smartphones. I could not use the internet with the flip phone, but I could talk and text which was good enough for the moment.

I decided to get involved with the League for the blind and disabled which was not too far from where we now lived. (1) On my first visit to the League, I was informed that they had a support group of several blind and visually impaired folks who met together in the basement every Wednesday to share and receive input on living with visual challenges. I wanted to see what I could learn in these meetings to help make me even more self-sufficient, and I was also more than willing to share my computer knowledge with anyone interested. If I’m not mistaken, the group consisted of around 25 to 30 people when I started attending the meetings. Of course, people joined and left the group during my time there. Dad drove me to and from the first few meetings, but I eventually started going with the volunteer drivers who transported people to and from the meetings. This helped free up Dad, who was taking care of Grandma among other things.

It was through the support group at the league that I found out about the organization I previously mentioned, “Workers for the Blind.” Many of the members of the support group belonged to the workers also, and a very small fee was required in order to become a member, so I became one.

To mention some of the activities organized by the Workers to give the blind/visually impaired members a chance to regularly get out and socialize, there were monthly luncheons which were hosted by various local churches. There were also regular bowling outings and excursions to museums and other outdoor places. I never went bowling with the workers because the loud noise in bowling alleys tends to bother me. But I did go with them on an excursion to a wildlife sanctuary nearby. I only missed one of the luncheons because of a miscommunication with the person who was supposed to pick me up.

In summer of 2017 I was presented with a new challenge to tackle. This happened right before my first trip to Switzerland, as I sat in the basement of the league waiting for one of the meetings to start. A fellow who’d recently joined the group came up to me because he noticed me texting on my flip phone. His sight was impaired but not totally lost. He told me I needed to get an iPhone right away so I could learn to use apple voiceover, the built-in screen-reader for Apple products. He even guided my hand across the screen with Voiceover turned on, so I could get an idea how to navigate. He said that with an iPhone I could browse the web among so many other things I couldn’t do with my current phone. I appreciated his kind suggestion and gesture, but I also knew that he still had some vision while I had none. Because of that, I didn’t think it was possible for me to use an iPhone the way he did.

Coincidently, a few days later, without even knowing about my conversation with the fellow at the league, my brother John emailed me a youtube video of a young woman demonstrating the use of Apple Voiceover on her iPhone. He wasn’t sure if she was completely blind or visually impaired, but he was very sure that an iPhone would truly be a good thing for me. I thanked him for the information, but I didn’t do anything about it because I was still skeptical about how well this would work for me.

When I arrived in Switzerland, I was hosted by my girlfriend and the kind couple with whom she was staying. Before I got there, I’d found out that both the husband and the wife were pedagogues for blind people. The wife spoke fairly good English, but the husband spoke only German. They came up to me one day as I was again texting on my flip phone, giving me the same pitch about needing an iPhone so I could use Apple Voiceover. I replied that I can’t see at all, so I didn’t think it would be possible for me to use Voiceover. “Of course it’s possible,” they told me. “We teach people just like you how to use Voiceover all the time.”

The husband proceeded to grab his iPhone and changed the language setting to English. Then he told me to start touching the screen. As I did, I heard a monotoned but clear female voice coming from the phone speaker. He then showed me how to scroll through the various options on the screen while voiceover speaks each one, and how to double tap on the option I desired in order to open it. In less than five minutes, I was totally sold on the iPhone and Apple Voiceover.

I knew I had to change from the flip phone to the iPhone. This would make me more mobile with my internet usage so I wouldn’t be limited to my computer which was set up at home most of the time. I could also more easily call and message my girlfriend, using internet powered platforms like Whatsapp, signal, and eventually Facebook Messenger — none of which I could use on the flip phone. I must add that the entire time I had the flip phone, my girlfriend called me regularly even though she was charged for it. I was so thankful for this, and I was determined to get an iPhone so we would now be able to call each other free of charge.

In late 2017, John came for a visit, bringing with him an old iPhone he wanted me to have since he was no longer using it. During his short stay, he taught me as much as he’d managed to learn about Voiceover. I learned it quickly and, just a few days after he left, I canceled the flip phone and gave it away. (Related story: My Smart Journey, parts 1 and 2)

In Spring of 2018, a memorable highlight occurred. I got a call one fine day from one of the board members of the Workers for the Blind. He told me that their recording secretary was moving on, And a replacement was needed. My name was on the list of potential candidates. He asked me if I’d be interested in the position, and I said yes, knowing this could be another good growing experience for me, and it truly was. This meant my attending not only the monthly luncheons for all the members, but the board meetings as well. These meetings, which were also monthly, took place over lunch at a local restaurant called Acme. Transportation was also provided, which helped further free Dad up. The funny thing was, for the longest time I mistakenly called it “Acne.” When this mispronunciation was finally noticed by someone during one of the meetings, I was duly corrected, and some good laughs were exchanged.

As the new recording secretary, I was to bring my digital recorder to each meeting and record the entire discussion. When I got home, I was to write a report known as the “Meeting minutes,” describing in detail what went on at the meeting. I then had to get the report printed out, which Dad helped me do. I did these tasks for both the board meetings and the monthly luncheons. I enjoyed them, and my help was greatly appreciated. I was able to serve in this position until I left Indiana in 2021. ***

While I kept myself busy with activities at the League and with the Workers, Grandma’s house continued to be the sanctuary it had always been. While part of me wished Grandpa were still around to live with and hang out with, his absence did not keep me from being happy in my “sanctuary.” Also, I was able to catch up on much lost time with grandma and aunt Karen, which was a huge blessing for both them and me.

In 2018, Grandma’s health began to grow weak because of congestive heart failure. She was even hospitalized a couple of times. Dad, Aunt Karen, and I did our best to care for her between the three of us, and with the brief help of nurses from a homecare service. But it became evident that Grandma would be better cared for in a nursing home. We were able to get her in a good place about half an hour from home, and we visited her regularly.

Grandma’s being moved to this new residence resulted in the opening of a wonderful door for me. Musicians and singers regularly came to the facility to perform for the residence. Grandma was thus inspired to tell the entertainment coordinators about my musical abilities. They agreed to have me come in and do an audition, so I went in with my guitar and performed a set that lasted 45 minutes or so. It went extremely well, and the residence enjoyed my renditions of classics by Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and several others. When I finished the audition, I expected to wait a while before hearing from the coordinators. Instead, the main coordinator came straight up to me, shook my hand, and thanked me profusely for coming. Then she asked if I’d like to do a paid performance for the residence once a month. Pleasantly surprised at receiving such a favorable reaction so quickly, I readily agreed.

This new work pursuit kept me fairly busy because, even though I only performed once every month for an hour, I continued rehearsing my repertoire daily and adding new songs to it. I was once again very grateful for my technology skills which enabled me to go on youtube and learn all the songs I wanted without having to buy CDS.

Furthermore, the word got around to a few other nursing homes in the area about my singing. While I was only hired at Grandma’s place to perform regularly, one of the other places asked me to perform more than once.

I continued performing until Covid struck and nursing homes were unable to allow entertainment for the residence because of the restrictions put in place. Since this singing was the first paying job I ever did, I felt like I could relate somewhat to those who’d lost their jobs because of the pandemic. I was definitely disappointed at no longer being able to perform, but I managed to keep from becoming terribly devastated over this development.

A couple more important events occurred in 2019 before the Pandemic hit. One was the selling of Grandma’s house. Dad and I stayed there for about a year after Grandma moved into the nursing home. But the upkeep and maintenance the place needed was more than he felt he could handle long-term, and Aunt Karen wasn’t interested in keeping the house either, for the same reason. So, somewhat reluctantly, we decided to sell the place, and I moved with Dad into an apartment not far from the nursing home where Grandma was. The idea of selling the house was initially difficult to consider because of the many fond memories it held for our entire family. Because my brothers and I moved around and traveled so much growing up, the Grandparents’ house was the most permanent place we’d ever known. We knew we were always welcome there any time, no strings attached. But because of the factors mentioned above, we also knew that selling the place was the option which held greater long-term benefits.

I remember feeling extremely emotional and sentimental while standing in the family room the day before we were to move out. Dad was also there and, when I told him how I felt, he said he was feeling the same. We took turns sharing the many valuable memories the place held for us, making it a bit difficult to let it go. We also went over the reasons why we knew that selling the place was the best decision we could have made. We ended the discussion by praying and asking God for his grace to make it through this transition.

Our prayers were answered, and we quickly adjusted to life in the two-bedroom apartment we moved into on the other side of town. The selling of the house served as a good lesson for me personally, helping me realize that nothing is ever permanent on this earth. Everything has a beginning and an end. But I took great comfort in God’s promise that his kindness remains with us even though the mountains may depart and the hills may be removed. (2) While I still value the memories Grandma and Grandpa’s house holds for all of us, I’ve made peace with the fact that it is no longer in our family. I’ve been by the house with my Dad and brothers several times since, just to check on it. Besides brief moments of nostalgia, I was not emotionally affected in any way. While I considered that place a personal sanctuary, I know in my heart that I can make a sanctuary out of any place I find myself in. (related story: In Loving Memory of a Personal Sanctuary)

References

1. https://the-league.org/

2 Isaiah 54:10 KJV

The encounter I had with God that day in Southern Texas served to free me from much of the grief and resentment I’d been living with since Mom left this world. As I studied scripture more thoroughly, I came to realize that it was not God’s plan for me to bear this burden of grief and sorrow, because Christ already took it on for me and for the whole world at the cross. (1) He now wanted me to have joy instead of mourning, and praise instead of heaviness. (2) Though I still faced daily challenges just like anyone else, I found myself better able to handle them since my personal relationship with God was restored. I could now talk to him about anything and everything, and I was able to hear his voice in my heart again, just as Jesus promised that his followers would be able to do. (3) It felt wonderful to live in restored fellowship and relationship with God. The more aware I grew of his daily, unfailing presence in my life, the happier I became. It was a great relief to have the burden of grief, sadness, and resentment lifted off of me, and to experience the comfort of God’s Holy Spirit. (4)

The results of this awesome, supernatural transformation I underwent manifested immediately. For instance, the day after the encounter in the hotel, I went with Dad to the hospital to visit a friend who had undergone surgery to remove his appendix. The operation had been successful, and we found him in good spirits, thrilled to see us. What is more, instead of dreading this hospital visit, I found myself looking forward to it and enjoying it. The typical hospital sounds and smells were definitely noticeable, but they did not bother me in the least. I told our friend about the amazing spiritual experience I’d had the previous day, and he was deeply touched. He told Dad and me that he was likewise inspired to start praising and thanking God more regularly. I went on several more hospital visits after that, and I derived great fulfillment from comforting and praying for the sick.

I also found myself enjoying happy memories and reminders of Mom when faced with them, instead of running away from them. I got to the point where I could enjoy singing and listening to the songs that she used to sing instead of being saddened by them. The anniversary of her passing away no longer brought me sorrow. Rather, it became a day to fondly remember her and celebrate her life, as did her birthday and Mother’s day. I observe these events with great joy and fondness today. The bad dreams about her illness and passing became far less frequent. Whenever they did show up in my sleep, I found myself better able to immediately forget about them by focusing on the positive.

In 2013 dad and I traveled to LA to visit family on Mom’s side, then to Northern California to see my brother Sam and his family. By this time, John had moved there and was living with Sam. While in LA visiting my relatives, I felt no sadness whatsoever. Only pure joy at being in the company of family. Instead of reacting with sadness and sorrow when faced with memories and reminders of Mom, I found myself enjoying and relishing those blasts from the past. We even stopped by her resting place a couple of times. Instead of freaking out emotionally over the fact that Mom’s remains were in front of me, I found myself genuinely rejoicing over the fact that it was only her earthly shell resting there. Her spirit, the real “her”, was and is eternally alive and free in the presence of God. I also found myself savoring the quietness of the cemetery which was never full of people when I went there. Sounds of nature such as birds and crickets could be clearly heard, and the atmosphere was ideal for thinking, meditating, and praying.

As I continued growing in my new-found peace, freedom, and joy, more invitations to speak and sing at schools, churches, and Bible studies came my way. I took advantage of these opportunities to share the story of my encounter with God. This always spoke directly to the hearts of those present, filling them with hope, comfort, and a desire to likewise strengthen their faith. Some even said that they, too, were freed from resentment and grief after hearing about what had happened to me. ***

While I was indeed free from much of the grief and loss I’d been dealing with, I continued to feel the need for a mother figure in my life. (Related story: Coming Into my Own Part 2.) My Dad was and still is an awesome Father. Even so, I greatly missed the comfort, support, and affection Mom gave me. As any widower would do, Dad eventually started dating again. After Mom recovered from her first bout with cancer, I’d gone to the opposite extreme, telling her how glad I was that she’d survived, as I really didn’t like the idea of Dad possibly dating someone else, let alone remarrying. Mom told me she was fine with him moving on and being with someone else, should she pass away, and she said I should be open to the idea as well. When it actually happened, this was at first very hard for me. But I eventually got used to it, knowing that he had just as much right to be happy as anyone did. I also figured that, while perhaps there was no one on earth exactly like Mom, it couldn’t hurt to have a substitute in order to help fill the void she’d left in my heart. The person Dad started dating was very kind to me and treated me like her own son. But as time passed, I became quite codependent on her for the physical and emotional support I felt I needed. I even started calling her, “Mom.”

After a while, Dad and I decided to move to Indiana to help take care of Grandma who was about 91 by then. Glad as I was about the move, the person Dad was dating did not wish to move with us, so the relationship between them ended. This event, which took place in 2016, caused me to start grieving all over again for a little while. Though this grief was not as serious and long-lasting as when Mom died, it was grief, nonetheless. I felt like a child whose parents were divorcing. However, since my relationship with God was now rekindled, I went to him for peace and comfort which he never failed to give in abundance. I also decided to read self-help articles online about how to navigate this type of emotional upheaval which I’d never experienced before. These articles made me realize that as the 32-year-old adult I now was, I needed to start coming into my own and being less dependent on others for my emotional support. It was time for me to become a man and put away childish things. (4) In the references at the end of this piece, I will include the link to the article I found most helpful. (5) ***

Besides Grandma’s need for increased help and care, Dad was also dealing with health issues that were not life-threatening but needed tending to. It was no longer convenient for him to do as much traveling as we had been doing for the past several years. He needed the change of pace that moving to Indiana would bring about. I, too, was starting to feel that the lifestyle of a traveling missionary had run its course for me and it was now time for a change. This move ended up changing my life for the better on many more fronts than I’d expected it would.

It was only two weeks after our arrival in Indiana that I connected online with my now fiancé, as I briefly mentioned in a previous post. She was all the way in Switzerland, and a long-distance relationship was not exactly what either of us had in mind. In fact, while she was actually looking to get into a relationship, I was quite hesitant to do so since previous attempts had gone very flat. Nevertheless, we connected and decided to regularly communicate for a while. It started with typing messages back and forth over email and Google Hangouts, since I did not yet know how to manage any other social media platforms. We enjoyed regularly chatting and found that we had a lot in common. But after about two months of this, I got tired of hearing her messages read by a digital voice and wanted to hear her voice instead. So, I decided to learn to use Skype in order to call her. This turned out to be far easier than I’d expected it to be. I’ll never forget how excited I was the first time we spoke over Skype audio. Although we occasionally recorded audios for each other and emailed them back and forth, there’s obviously nothing like a real-time two-way conversation with someone. She was likewise very happy we could now talk to each other in real time.

Before we ended that first call, she asked if the next one could be a video call. I was nervous about this, because so far, she’d only seen one video that was several years old of me playing music. As the time for the Skype video call approached, I became concerned about how she would take to my physical appearance. So, I combed my hair as best I could and made an effort to be as presentable as possible. I put sunglasses on as I always do when going out or entertaining guests at home.

After the typical pleasantries, she said she wanted to ask me a favor. “Now what?” I thought to myself. Then she said, “Could you please remove your sunglasses? I’d like to see your eyes.” This request made me even more nervous because by now, I had begun to entertain the hope that something solid would eventually work out between us. What would she think about my eyes? Other people had told me my eyes were beautiful, but I dismissed the complement thinking they were just being nice. However, I quickly figured there was no good reason not to comply with her request. After all, she would eventually end up seeing my eyes if things continued progressing between us. Why not just go ahead and get this inevitable “eye checkup” out of the way?

I removed my glasses and placed them on my desk beside my laptop. I waited in silence and with bated breath for a reaction. No more than 15 seconds passed before she spoke, but to me it seemed like a full minute or more. Finally, she said in that soft, gentle voice of hers, “Such beautiful eyes. You don’t need glasses when we chat on video, Okay?” I could only agree with a grateful sigh of relief. (Related story, Accepted as You Are.

There’s a whole lot more I could say about the wonderful relationship that developed and is still developing between me and my wonderful partner. Besides helping me tremendously in my personal growth and development, I became an international traveler by regularly making trips to visit her. This further increased my independence and confidence. My partner has brought much light to my life and taught me many things. I am very blessed to be in a wonderful relationship that’s truly meant to be. Just as Isaac was comforted after his Mother’s death when Rebecca came into his life, 6) I was also greatly consoled by my partner’s entry into my life.

To find out what happens next, please join me in the upcoming continuation of this series. If you haven’t yet read the previous post in this series, you can find it here.

References

1. Isaiah 53:4 KJV

2 Isaiah 61:3 KJV

3 John 10:27 KJV

4 1 Corinthians 13:11 KJV

5https://www.huffpost.com/entry/when-parents-divorceand-y_b_130244

6 Genesis 24:67 KJV

For the next several years I continued grinding it out as a missionary and as a believer in general. On the outside I appeared to be spiritually strong and dedicated to my faith. People saw me as a person who walked closely with God and served him joyfully. As I went back and forth with Dad between the States and Mexico, I served as a worship leader and a Bible teacher at our church. I continued to improve with my computer skills, and I started sending out devotional material via email to those of our congregation who wished to receive it. Some people who came to our services were inspired by my example as an overcomer and a man of deep faith even in the face of blindness. A few of those people were teachers at high schools and universities, and they obtained permission from their supervisors for me to give motivational talks to their students and sing songs to them. After finishing my presentation, I was permitted to talk one on one with the students. I answered questions they asked me about myself, faith and other topics. A few of them even made a personal decision to follow after faith. I was invited to some of those places more than once. I also prayed for and offered spiritual guidance to several people over the telephone.

I took great pride in all of these glowing attributes. But in reality, they helped form a façade that covered up the chains which bound me on the inside. Chains of grief, sorrow, and resentment. I continued to hold it against God for taking Mom’s life instead of healing and sparing her. But I kept following God in spite of my feelings, thinking this would somehow help me earn points with him. While I appeared to be running my race with patience, (1) I was really limping my way through life. I believed that my service to God, coupled with the grief I was holding on to, was my cross to bear.

Whenever January 8th came around, which was the day Mom left this world, I was sad and pensive the entire day, wrestling with my emotions. I was the same way on her birthday, June 10th, and on Mother’s day also.

I eventually chose to shut out all memories of Mom, including the good ones — thinking this would help my heart heal quicker. I didn’t go as far as pretending she no longer existed. I just wouldn’t let myself think about her. Sometimes I would meet people who would ask me, “What happened to your Mom?” I always gave them very short answers like, “She passed away from cancer.” Then I would abruptly change the subject. Avoiding all thoughts and memories of Mom was not nearly as easy as I thought it would be, and it didn’t help my heart to heal either. Sometimes I would hear songs she used to sing on Karaoke, like the ones previously mentioned, and this would make me feel sad. Whenever we visited LA and got together with my Aunts and Uncles from that side of the family, I couldn’t wait to leave because reminders of Mom were everywhere; in the food we ate, the things we talked about, etc. etc. While away from LA I seldom contacted anyone from Mom’s side of the family. I only did so once or twice a year to keep them from thinking the worst of me. While I never came to dislike Filipino food, I disliked the memories that flooded my mind whenever I ate it. Those memories were not bad in the least. On the contrary, they were happy memories of all the wonderful times with Mom. But the hurt and resentment I carried over her departure from this world prevented me from reminiscing on these times with joy. This, as you may recall, is exactly what Mom told all of us to do before her passing. “Remember the good times.”

Meanwhile, in early 2007, Grandpa passed away from Multiple Myeloma, a cancer that attacks the blood and bones. This only served to add to the burden of grief I was still carrying over Mom’s passing. ***

As time kept going by, I realized I was quickly growing tired of ignoring the wounds in my heart. I knew I was missing out on the freedom and joy I was meant to live in. Regardless of the happy, free appearance I’d been maintaining ever since Mom’s passing, I was perfectly aware that in reality my soul was bound to grief and chained to pain and sorrow. I was hiding from it instead of putting myself in a position to get it resolved. I knew I couldn’t live like this forever. So, I finally told God I was ready for his help in facing my inner wounds and getting them healed. The healing process began when a friend of mine got me a copy of the audio book, “The Shack,” by William P. Young. (2) I don’t think this friend knew the extent of the lingering grief and sorrow I was dealing with. She’d just thought it was a great book, and she knew how much I enjoy listening to audio books. She truly outdid herself as far as choosing something wonderful to give me as a gift, and I was able to tell her so.

This story is basically about a grieving father who goes back to the place where the tragic loss of his daughter occurred, and while there, he has a truly life-altering experience that sets him free from the grief he’d been drowning in. I found this story quite relatable and even comforting.

A few months later, I was given two books by Merlin Carothers — “Prison To Praise, and “Power In Praise.” (3) Both books explore what the Bible has to say about praising God and being thankful in everything, and they contain plenty of real-life examples and testimonials on the power of praise and thankfulness. These books motivated me to praise God more and complain less.

I am now at the point in my story where I describe a vivid encounter I had while expressing thankfulness to God. I know it was not a dream because it took place while I was wide awake and aware. However, I definitely consider it a spiritual experience. I leave it up to the reader to decide whether or not to embrace what I describe.

Dad and I were on a trip to McAllen, Texas, visiting friends. One of them had put us up in a hotel, and I was alone in the room resting while dad quickly went out to get some things we needed. All of a sudden, I heard the Lord speaking to my heart. I’m not talking about an audible voice that was heard with my physical ears. Rather, it was clearly heard in my thoughts, resounding in my innermost being. It was not accompanied by thunder, lightning, the singing of angels, or the ringing of bells. It was a truly unmistakable message which was clearly communicated from the Creator’s heart to my own.

“I am pleased that you are taking seriously this new challenge of gratitude in all things,” He said. “But there is still further to go.”

I waited, remaining still and silent. Then He spoke again.

“There is a seed of resentment in your heart over your mother’s passing away. You must root it out by being thankful that she is now with Me.”

I cringed as though caught with a secret. Yet there was no justifying, nor denying. I knew He was right.

I must clarify that at this stage of my spiritual development I did not have an accurate understanding of the ways of God. Because I was brought up to believe that it is He who causes sickness and tragedy in order to make people better, I therefore understood that I was to thank God for taking my mother’s life. Today, however, I realize that it is Satan, the thief, who steals, kills, and destroys. (4) Nevertheless, I know for certain that although Satan took her life, she did indeed go to heaven and is enjoying a better life than any of us left here on earth. For this, I still give thanks today.

Despite my ignorance, God graciously took me where I was at. I wasted no time in giving thanks to God, shedding tears as I did so. It was truly a cathartic experience. All resentment, hurt, and pain were washed away in a flood of joy that cannot be explained in earthly terms.

Suddenly, it was as though the eyes of my spirit were open. Although I was alone in the physical, I looked through this new opening in my spiritual vision and saw myself engulfed in the presence of Jesus and surrounded by angels. They were laughing and sharing in my joy, congratulating me for what I had just done.

I am unable to give a visual description of what they looked like. Doing so would require not only physical sight, but the use of physical terms — and this encounter was way beyond anything physical. Suffice it to say, I was acutely aware of their presence. From it exuded a comforting, healing balm, which penetrated my being like nothing else ever had.

Most beautiful of all, there, amongst the angels and the presence of Jesus, was none other than my dear mother, watching me from her celestial vantage point, with tears of joy on her face. Although she said not a single word, the happiness that radiated from her presence spoke volumes.

It was then that the message contained in 2 Corinthians 5:7 took on a new meaning. (5) Only after I “walked by faith” and followed through with the Lord’s request to give thanks could I be rewarded with the marvelous gift of “sight” into the Spirit world, which would further propel me into a closer and deeper relationship with the One who knows, loves, and cares like no one else.

To find out what happens next, please join me for the upcoming continuation of this series. If you haven’t yet read the previous part of this story, you can find it here.

References

1. Hebrews 12:1 KJV

2. https://wmpaulyoung.com/

3. https://foundationofpraise.org/

4 John 10:10 KJV

5 2 Corinthians 5:7 KJV)

As I continue with my narrative, I’ll be switching between a few different time frames because I feel that this is the best way to keep my story interesting and captivating. All events described here are connected in their own way to the story I am telling, and I’m doing my best to lay them out in a way that is easy to follow, and which will help my readers understand how these events are related. ***

I was truly comforted by the dream encounter described in the previous post. However, as I mentioned earlier, I continued to hang on to a lot of grief, and even resentment, which made me forget the details of the conversation I’d had with Mom in the dream. Nevertheless, in my times of personal reflection and in my conversations with others, I happened to come to conclusions that were identical to some of the things Mom had shared with me in my dream, such as her having chosen to go on to the afterlife rather than remain here on earth, and her now being better able to let me spread my wings and be more independent.

After we returned to LA from Indiana, Dad suggested that this may be a good time for me to try some things that would have previously made Mom uncomfortable, but which would help me be more self-sufficient. I agreed, and I took some time to think about exactly what I could start with. The first thing that came to mind was solo travel. (Related story: Flying Blind) I knew it was commonplace for many blind people to travel alone by plane with assistance from the airline employees. I regularly talked about doing this someday. Dad was totally in favor of it, but Mom always said, “You’re not going anywhere alone.” When I brought up the idea to Dad in response to his suggestion, he thought solo travel was an excellent first step for me to take.

Right at this time, I received an invitation to participate as a musician at a Christian youth camp in the Houston area. We had also been talking to my brother, John, about my trying out solo travel, and he was all for the idea. He invited me to fly out to Atlanta and visit him for a few weeks. So, dad and I decided to fly to Houston together. He was with me during the event. Once it was over, he flew back to LA, and I caught a flight to Atlanta. It was a direct flight, as was the one back to LA. While I had a great time in Atlanta hanging out with John and attending a few concerts, I’m focusing on what it was like to travel by plane unaccompanied. While I did feel slightly jittery with a few butterflies in my stomach, a bigger part of me was very excited, as though something I’d dreamed of for a very long time was finally happening. Dad kept telling me over and over, “I know you can do it, and I know everything will turn out just fine.” By the time he headed to his gate to catch his flight back to LA, and I was escorted to my gate by the person from the airline, I fully embraced Dad’s confidence in me. The person guiding me was very friendly and accommodating, encouraging me to let him know whether to walk faster or slower. I held on to his elbow with my left hand and had my cane in my right hand. My suitcase had been checked in, and I had no hand luggage.

Once in my seat with the belt securely fastened, I allowed the excitement I felt to fully take over. It only increased when the plane took off. I remember being very excited when Sam and I attended my first rock concert back in 1999, with Creed as the main act. Now, the excitement of flying alone for the first time was a few levels higher. All nervousness and insecurity disappeared without a trace, giving way to a sense of total freedom. I savored the roar of the engines and the slight up and down movement of the plane as it sailed through the air. I also imagined Mom watching me from where she was, feeling proud and confident instead of worried sick. Upon arriving in Atlanta, I was immediately escorted off the plane. John was able to obtain a gate pass through security which allowed him to pick me up right at the gate, and he was waiting for me at the end of the jetway.

The flight back to LA was much longer since it was a cross-country flight. It was nonstop and lasted about five hours. The airline people were extremely helpful, as were the passengers sitting next to me. My seat was fairly comfortable, and I felt the same excitement as on the first flight. I was able to savor this sensation to a greater degree since the return flight was longer. At that moment, I felt like I could truly identify with the song, “Blackbird,” by the Beatles. (1) While this solo travel experience was indeed a huge step in my learning greater freedom and independence, it was only the beginning. I still had much farther to go than I realized — not just physically, but emotionally as well.

Dad was likewise able to get a gate pass through security, and he was waiting for me at the end of the jetway when I arrived. He told me he was proud of me for completing my first solo round-trip, and he asked me if I thought I’d be interested in doing it again sometime, perhaps going to Indiana, which wouldn’t be a nonstop flight. I told him I definitely would be.

This, however, did not end up happening until 2016. Earlier that year Dad and I had moved back to Indiana. I will describe this change and the reasons behind it later on in this series. But since I’m sharing my experiences with solo travel, I’ll take a moment to recount what happened in 2016 since it was my first time traveling alone on a flight with layovers.

John had left Atlanta a few years before and moved to Santa Cruz to be with Sam and his

family. They flew me out there to spend the Thanksgiving Holiday with them. After the ticket was booked, I had to call the airline to set up the special assistance I needed since my brothers were not given the option to set it up online. This was easy to do by phone, and I became more and more excited as the travel date got closer.

Since our move to Indiana, I had become a member of an association called, ‘Workers for the blind,” which provided regular activities for the blind and visually impaired of the Fort Wayne area — namely outings and luncheons. (2) I attended one of the luncheons just a day before my trip. As soon as I told some of the folks present at the event about my upcoming travels, I immediately wished I hadn’t, because a couple of them told me of some unpleasant experiences they’d had while traveling solo by plane. The people who were supposed to help them did not show up for a while, and these folks were temporarily stranded on the tarmac in cold, snowy conditions. These tales which, I knew, were not exaggerated, caused the slight nervousness I felt about this trip to considerably elevate.

“Perfect timing,” I thought to myself. “Just one day before I’m supposed to travel, and I have to hear these stories. Why couldn’t I have heard them before booking my ticket? This would have given me a chance to reconsider.”

These thoughts and many others went through my head after the conversation at the luncheon. But I kept them to myself when I got home, not mentioning anything about them to Dad or anyone else. I also went about finishing all the preparations for the trip. Finally, I decided that backing out was simply not an option. I chose to quit entertaining negative, fearful thoughts, and to instead pay attention to the more compelling part of me that was dying to take this trip.

By the next morning, all the fear and anxiety I’d wrestled with yesterday had evaporated and I was excited to now be on my way. I expected to walk with the person who was to guide me, but he instead came around with a wheelchair. This surprised me a bit, and I almost told him I could walk, and I didn’t need a wheelchair. But I ended up just getting on the wheelchair, figuring it would be quicker and safer anyway.

I was pushed through security to my gate. When the gate agent saw me, she let me board the plane early. When asked if I wanted to be wheeled or walked onto the plane, I chose to be walked since it was a short distance and no one else was boarding yet. I was guided all the way to my seat.

When I reached Chicago, the first stop, another wheelchair escort was waiting. I was grateful for this since the airport in Chicago is obviously much bigger and far more crowded than the one in Fort Wayne, especially right before Thanksgiving. It was noisy, and there was a lot of hustle and bustle. As the lady pushed me, she loudly called out in order to be heard above the noise, “EXCUSE ME. WHEELCHAIR COMING.”

I made my connecting flight in good time, and arrived safely in San Jose, California, where I was picked up by my brothers.

This was the first time for the three of us to get together without Mom and Dad. Although it felt a bit different, we had a fabulous time celebrating Thanksgiving and also playing music together. John had recently purchased an electric drum kit. Although he is a great drummer, he is better on bass guitar than me and Sam. So, I took over the drums, John played bass, and Sam played electric guitar. We held several jam sessions in the garage playing classic and alternative rock favorites. We were pretty tight considering neither of us practiced our instruments regularly. I hadn’t played drums for about fifteen years. But because I love drums, I held many imaginary practice sessions in my mind during these years. This helped me keep up a fairly strong momentum.

On the way back, my first flight, To Dallas Fort Worth this time, arrived later than expected. The attendant who helped me off the plane was waiting for someone else to take me the rest of the way to my gate, and that person failed to show up for some reason. I became a bit nervous, knowing I didn’t have much time left before the departure of my final flight. Eventually the attendant worked something out with his supervisors over the radio and brought me all the way to my next gate and onto the plane. I breathed a sigh of relief as I sat down in my seat. Almost before I knew it, I was safely home.

I made this trip solo a few more times before permanently moving to California. I will share more about this change later on in this series as well. Since then, I’ve made several solo trips to Europe and back, and they all went off without a hitch. In brief, the reason for this was because I connected with a wonderful lady with whom I got involved in a long-distance relationship. Today we are still together, and we plan to eventually get married. I will share more about this in an upcoming post. ***

Another area I greatly lacked in was computer knowledge. This lack wasn’t due to any objection on Mom’s part. On the contrary, she helped prepare me for future learning by teaching me how to touch-type, which is crucial to the use of screen-reading technology. Also, thanks to Mom, I was an expert with reading and writing in Braille. But considering how quickly technology was advancing, and the tremendous amount of information that could be accessed very quickly through the internet, I knew computer skills were extremely necessary to obtain.

My parents regularly took me to the Braille Institute in Los Angeles, where there was a big library containing all kinds of books and magazines. I went there with Mom once when I was 16, and we struck up a conversation with one of the employees who was visually impaired but still had some vision. She asked if I had any computer skills, and I told her that besides being able to type, I had none. She asked if we’d ever heard of the computer program, Jaws for Windows, (3) which we had not. She then invited us into her office. She turned on her computer and a deep, robotic voice sounded through the speakers. She explained that Jaws, which stands for job access with speech, reads the computer screen with a digital voice, enabling visually challenged users to navigate the screen with keyboard commands. This makes it possible to accomplish all the main tasks performed by computer users, such as creating documents, browsing the web, sending and receiving emails, etc.

She asked me if I wanted to sit at the computer and try typing something so I could get an idea of how Jaws works. I was very hesitant to do this, as I didn’t want to risk ruining this kind lady’s computer. But she and Mom encouraged me to give it a shot. I agreed, and the lady opened a word document. I wasn’t exactly sure what to type, so Mom suggested I type out a little letter to my Grandparents explaining where I was and what I was doing at that moment and telling them how excited I was that we would be visiting them soon. My hands started trembling as I reached out to touch the keyboard. But Mom and the lady reassured me that everything would be fine.

The keyboard of this desktop computer felt exactly like the one at home. The only exception was, Mom had stuck Braille labels on the keys of the one at home, but this keyboard had no labels. This is why I was so nervous. Even so, with Mom’s help, I located the home keys and started typing. I was both amused and amazed to hear the monotoned digital voice of Jaws speak every letter I typed. This infused me with confidence. I quickly began typing as fast as I did on the Braille keyboard at home. The lady who’d let me use the computer told Mom, “He types very good, MA’AM. You taught him well.” Mom then told her about my using a Perkins brailler, and how I wrote Braille letters to my Grandparents, and she would write print under the dots since they could not read Braille. The lady said, “O, I have a Braille printer. I can print his letter in Braille and give it to you.”

“How can I refuse?” I replied, thanking her profusely.

This experience made me want to start learning computer skills as soon as I possibly could. The lady at the Braille institute gave us a number to call for more information about Jaws. I called and asked how much the program cost, and I was told it was close to $1000. I was sure my parents were unable to afford that, and when I brought it up to them, they said this was indeed true at this point and time, but that perhaps in the future it could work out for me to get the program. I wanted it badly, as so many people my age had laptop computers and were doing so much with them. I preferred a laptop to a desktop because of its portability. I wanted to be able to get online and check my email any time I wished, without assistance from others. I also had a passion for writing, and I wanted to pursue it using a computer instead of the Brailling machine. I did some Braille journaling here and there, and I saved what I wrote in binders. But I quickly began running out of space to store them. Having a laptop and a screen-reader would totally solve this situation. Also, the Braille Bible I had was cumbersome to lug around every time we moved, since it consisted of 18 huge volumes, as I mentioned in a previous post in this series. I wanted to be able to read the Bible online with a screen-reader instead.

In mid-2004, shortly after I returned from Atlanta, Dad found a reasonably priced screen-reader called, “Connect Out Loud.” We purchased it and it worked well for document creation. But it had limits when it came to internet browsing and email could only be managed via outlook express using this program. I could compose an email offline using outlook express, but I had to get online in order to send it. With Dad’s help, I used Connect Out Loud for a while since it was the most economical program available at the moment.

Shortly after I got the program, we started making regular trips to Mexico again. We were based out of LA for a while, but eventually moved to Texas, closer to the border.

Fast-forward to 2009. On one of our trips to Mexico that year, we came in contact with a blind school that offered the Jaws program for a reasonable price, as well as lessons on its use. I was able to get my first laptop, and I eventually became fairly proficient in the use of Jaws. I used it until 2015. That was when I heard about another screen-reading program which is available for free and works with all the same keyboard strokes as Jaws, and then some. It’s called NVDA, which stands for nonvisual desktop access. (4) I quickly got accustomed to it and I still use it today.

My computer skills have vastly improved since I began using screen-reading software, and they are still improving today as technology continues to evolve. While learning new computer skills was tedious at times, and still can be on occasion, the results have truly been worth the effort.

To read more of this story, please join me in the upcoming continuation of this series. If you haven’t yet read the previous part, you can find it here.

References

1. The Beatles, Blackbird

2. https://workersfortheblind.org/

3. https://www.freedomscientific.com/products/software/jaws/

4. https://www.nvaccess.org/

(Related Story: Dreaming in the Dark)

Have you ever wondered if it’s possible for people who are blind since birth to dream in their sleep? If so, it would interest you to know that I dream every single night, though I don’t always remember my dreams afterwards. I’ve been asked countless times if I’m able to see in my dreams, and I’ve always honestly answered that I’m not. Finally, people will ask me, “If you can’t see in your dreams, then what are they like?” The answer is really quite simple. My dreams contain all the senses and sensations I live with in day-to-day life. I hear sounds, I touch things, I talk to people, and I hear them talking to me.

I became aware of my ability to dream as a boy of six during our three-month stay with Grandma and Grandpa after leaving the Philippines. I told Mom one morning at breakfast that after going to bed last night, I’d found myself back in the Philippines with my childhood friends. I was playing with them, singing songs with them and so on. Mom replied, “You were dreaming about them.” My brothers were at the table as well, and they confirmed what Mom said, also saying that the same thing would occasionally happen to them. I am making this brief mention of dreams and how they work for me to help my readers better understand what I’m about to describe.

I am of the opinion that the ability to dream is a gift from our creator. However, this does not mean that all dreams come from him. Some dreams are pleasant, others unpleasant, and yet others can be a mix of both. Sometimes our dreams make sense, and other times they don’t. But I believe that while many dreams may not carry any significance, dreams can sometimes serve to teach, warn, and comfort us. This has truly been the case for me. There are differing opinions on this subject, and while I firmly believe that the experience related below was God’s gift to me, I respect the right of each individual reading this piece to believe as they wish. That said, what happened to me is as follows. ***

Not long after Mom’s passing, sometime before we went to Indiana, I asked God to give me a vivid dream about Mom and the “better place” she was and is now in. I wanted to experience it for myself so that the reminder of her being in a better place wouldn’t sound so cliché. I obviously wasn’t ready to leave this world yet, so I figured the best way for this desire to be accomplished was through a dream. I also figured such an encounter could potentially lighten the burden of grief I was carrying, and which I didn’t want to carry for the rest of my life.

Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Karen were very helpful. They knew I was in a tough spot, and they offered whatever support and advice they could. I remember carefully telling them about sometimes wishing I could have been the one to go instead of Mom, though I didn’t want to take that sentiment too far. They were very understanding, letting me know that this is a normal part of the grieving process and it’s called, “’survivor’s guilt.” Both my Grandparents had obviously lost their parents and went through their own grieving processes. But they made it through, and they assured me that with time it becomes easier to get accustomed to the absence of departed loved ones. I admired them and I greatly appreciated their input.

Dad was also very concerned about how I was doing, and he regularly told me he was.

always available if I needed to talk. Grateful as I was for this, I knew he was going through his own grieving process, and I didn’t want to further burden him with mine.

While we were in Indiana, I didn’t feel too sad during the days, as I was busy going places and spending time with family. But the first few nights when all was quiet and still, the painful reality of Mom’s absence would wash over me in waves. These were not like the small waves that crashed on the seashore in Santa Cruz, whose sound filled me with peace and whose impact couldn’t do anything more to me than get me whet. These emotional waves were more like troubled waters that engulfed me and pushed me under. Waves of sadness, loss, and grief. They never drove me to the point of anxiety attacks or panic attacks. But they did drive me to tears several times.

Also, for a while after Mom’s passing, I frequently had dreams where I relived scenes of her being sick and in pain, sometimes crying because of it, while we were by her side comforting her as best we could. Occasionally those dreams would contain scenes that made things worse than they had been in reality. For example, I remember one dream where my family was expecting me to do something to ease Mom’s suffering and my inability to do anything upset them. This, of course, had never been the case, though there were plenty of times when I did feel helpless wishing I could ease her suffering somehow. I’m sure many of you reading this story are aware of the way dreams of things that happened in reality have a way of reinventing themselves. Dreams are often born out of things we carry in our hearts in real life. I now know that this dream was born out of personal regret I carried over not being able to ease Mom’s suffering. Of course, I know we all wished we could have done more for Mom in that area.

While preparing to go to Indiana, I’d brought a Braille copy of the book of Psalms with me, and I derived some comfort from reading it. I also had a CD Walkman and plenty of CDs with me. Because there was no need to get up early in the mornings, I usually stayed up very late listening to music. I especially loved the 3-part live central Park Concert Album by the Dave Matthews band. (1) I would lose myself in Carter Beauford’s ingenious drumming, Dave Matthews’ most inventive, creative guitar playing, and the amazing musical expertise of the other band members. A friend who’d come to see Mom when she was hospitalized on Thanksgiving day had bought me the album as a Christmas gift, and on this particular night I’d heard it all the way through. It was over two hours long. But I wanted to thoroughly exhaust myself so that by the time it was finished I couldn’t stay awake and think about anything else. As soon as it was over, I shut off my CD Walkman, put it away, then lay back down and closed my eyes. ***

The next thing I knew, I was walking with Mom. I knew it was she, because I heard her say, “Come with me.” The main way I recognize people is by their voices, and there was absolutely no mistaking hers. She said these three words in the same gentle, inviting way she said them when she was here on earth. Hearing her voice again comforted me beyond description. It sounded strong, healthy and well — as though she’d never been ill.

I was holding her hand which no longer felt thin and boney. It felt exactly like it had felt when she was in perfect health — soft, smooth, and strong.

“Where are we?” I asked her.

“This is one of the gardens in heaven,” she replied.”

Though one would think I would have been able to see if I were in heaven, I could not see in this dream. I have no idea why, but this realization didn’t even occur to me until I awoke from the dream. Of course, this was after all a dream, and everything was happening on a purely subconscious level while my physical body slept.

I was silent for some moments after Mom told me where we were. I wanted to thoroughly take in my surroundings. We were definitely in a garden, because I smelled all kinds of flowers. I recognized my two most favorite cents — roses and Jazmin. These blended very nicely with many other cents whose sources I am unable to name.

The next thing that caught my attention was that I found myself breathing the purest, cleanest air my lungs had ever come in contact with. The fragrance of the flowers only served to enhance the purity of the air. I took long deep breaths in and out. It was truly a treat for my respiratory system. The air was totally untainted because the entire place was untainted by anything harmful or unpleasant. A gentle breeze blew, carrying with it the delightful fragrances that pervaded the place. The breeze was of the most perfect temperature possible. Not too cold, not too warm. At this time in Indiana, it was cold and snowing. The heating system in my grandparents’ house worked well, but sometimes they turned the temperature up higher than I was comfortable with. The place of my dream, on the other hand, had a truly ideal climate.

As I walked hand in hand with Mom, I became aware of a sensation of total weightlessness. I felt light as a feather — probably similar to the way an astronaut feels while in space. The more I think of it, I felt more like I was floating than walking at times. Though I recall my feet touching the ground, at certain moments it was as though they didn’t have to touch it in order for me to keep my balance.

While I couldn’t say exactly how big this garden we walked in was, I knew it was very ample because I heard voices speaking from quite a distance. This indicated that there were other people in this garden, though I still don’t know who they were to this day. I also couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about. I could tell, however, that their conversation, mingled with quite a bit of laughter, was very happy and joyful. Sadness just did not exist in this place. Only infinite peace, and happiness.

At some point, Mom and I began conversing — not with words spoken out loud, but with our thoughts. We knew exactly what the other was thinking, and we responded accordingly. I recall our conversation being the most honest, heartfelt conversation I’d ever had with Mom, or with anyone for that matter. The curious thing is that although this recollection of an open, honest conversation has always remained with me, I was never able to recall exactly what we talked about until I began writing this story. I think this is because I had unknowingly allowed these details to get buried by the grief I continued to live with for a long time after this encounter. I’m so grateful to finally be able to recall them and describe them here.

It began with my asking Mom why she had to leave us, and if she realized how hard this loss was for me and all of us for that matter. I remember this question first forming in my mind. Just as I was about to speak it out loud, she answered me, but her answer was transmitted to my thoughts. She told me that as she’d stood on the threshold of life and death, she was given the choice to remain on earth or transition to the next life. I do not recall her telling me who exactly had presented her with this choice. It could have been God, or it could have been angels. Be that as it may, she had chosen the latter of the two options. Thinking about it while in this beautiful place I was dreaming about, I certainly couldn’t blame her considering how much pain and discomfort she had endured through her illness.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than Mom responded with another thought of her own. She said there was more to her choice than just wanting to be free of pain and suffering. She felt that from the spiritual realm it would be easier for her to let me spread my wings and fly the coop than from the physical one. From her current vantage point, she was better able to see and understand what lay ahead for me, and she was more aware of Gods protection over me. It was as though on earth she saw through a glass darkly, but

from her new abode she could now see face to face. (2) She said she knew this was hard for me to understand, but it was just the way a Mother’s heart is. I’ve spoken of this to a few people who are Mothers, and it made perfect sense to them. I remember Mom saying, once again via telepathy, “I’m here because I chose to be here. So, please don’t blame yourself, God, or anyone else for my passing away.”

A few more moments of silence passed between us. I really couldn’t tell how much time this whole encounter lasted. In one sense it seemed like forever, while in another it seemed quick and short, if that makes sense.

Finally, I heard Mom say, this time out loud, “Okay, you’ve been able to experience what it’s like where I am. Now it’s time to go back to where you came from because you still have things to do there. But don’t worry. When you finish them, you’ll be back.”

Before I was able to think or say anything else, the dream ended, and I found myself back in Indiana lying in bed, extremely comforted and ready to face a new day.

To find out what happens next, join me in the upcoming continuation of this series. If you haven’t yet read the previous story in this series, you can find it here.

References

1. Dave Matthews band, The Central Park Concert

2. 1 Corinthians 13:12 KJV