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Belinda - Just Because I'm Blind Do You Think I Cannot See

“Just because I’m Blind Do You Think I Cannot See?”

   For a number of years I lived next to a family of five. I remember it always impressed me how well Belinda, the daughter, coped with her blindness. Our families worshipped at the same church, and while I cannot say we were close, we promised to keep in touch when my job required me to move overseas. Eventually, however, we even stopped exchanging cards at Christmas.

   On taking early retirement, I decided to look up old friends and acquaintances before settling down, and that is how our two families became reunited. While I had been blessed with the opportunity to travel the world, including living and working in many different countries, I was touched beyond measure by the story my erstwhile neighbors had to tell, and which had caused them never even to think about moving from the family home. Here, as best I can recall it in their own words, is what they had to say. It began in all innocence with a simple question posed by the father of the family.

   “Belinda, what would you like for your 18th birthday?”

   “The answer to a question,” came the immediate reply.

   “No, seriously; your mother and I would like to get you something special to mark the occasion.”

   “Yes, dear, and if you tell us now, or at least think about it, we’ll have time.”

   “No, thank you,” said Belinda quietly, “the only thing I want is the answer to just one question.”

   “Then why not tell us now,” said her mother somewhat impatiently, “why wait until your birthday?”

   “I have other plans for that day,” Belinda replied, getting up and going to her room.

   “I wonder what all that was about,” said her mother, fishing for the remote.

   Belinda’s father made no reply, but a feeling of uneasiness crept over him. From time to time, he would gently ask his daughter whether she was ready to ask that all-important question, but quoting Melville’s character, Bartleby, she would reply, “I would prefer not to.”

  On the day of Belinda’s birthday, when she, her parents and her two brothers were at dinner, her father asked her again if she was ready to ask her question.

  “I would prefer not to; after dinner, please, if you don’t mind,“ came the reply.

  The meal over, Belinda went to her room as usual. A short while later she came downstairs again and, unusually for her, stood outside the room where the rest of the family was seated watching television. After a moment she announced that she was ready to ask her question.

  “What is it, dear?” her mother called over her shoulder.

  “Would you mind coming out here for a moment?” came the reply.

  Her parents got up and went to the hallway. They were surprised to see their daughter dressed ready to go out.

  “What is it, dear?” her mother repeated.

  Making sure she had the full attention of both her parents, Belinda asked quietly, “When you decided to buy this house six years ago, why did you not ask me which room I would like?” Her dumbfounded parents just stared at her. Eventually her mother stammered something about buying houses being the sort of thing parents decided.

  “But you asked both my brothers which rooms they would like,” responded Belinda.

  After an awkward pause, Belinda’s father said quietly that, if he didn’t ask her which room she wanted he couldn’t now remember why, but he was sorry if it had upset her.

  “Just because I’m blind do you think I cannot see?” retorted Belinda.

  So saying, she opened the front door behind her, and in what was obviously a carefully rehearsed manoeuvre, a burly taxi driver stepped into the house. Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned right, opened the closet door and picked up two suitcases hidden behind some long coats. Tucking one suitcase under his huge arm, he gently took Belinda by the elbow and steered her outside the house, down the path and into his waiting, bright yellow taxicab. And then they were gone.

  Later that evening, as her father was locking up the house before retiring for the night, he heard the sound of music coming from Belinda’s room. He thought something must be wrong because the same words kept being repeated over and over again. He recognized them as coming from an old Beatles’ song: “She’s leaving home after living alone for so many years.” Her father sat down heavily and listened to the constantly repeated words. He was still there, listening to them, when his wife found him next morning.

  A great many years later, when Belinda was teaching Braille at an institute for the blind, a colleague asked her if she had caught the tail end of the six o”clock news that morning. She said she hadn’t. He then asked her if she had ever lived at such and such an address. She said she had.

  “Well,” her colleague replied, “because of your unusual last name I wondered if the message was meant for you. It was one of those SOS calls that are sometimes broadcast. This one asked if someone with your name who was last known living at your old address could call the police as their brothers were dangerously ill.”

  Belinda hoped the emotion she felt inside was not displayed on the outside. Over the many years since she had left home, she had often thought about her parents and brothers but had never made any attempt to contact them. While her father was soft-spoken, kind and gentle, Belinda resented the fact that he had effectively allowed her mother to rule the roost. Her mother was well meaning but did not know what it was to show any real affection for her immediate family, while effortlessly endearing herself to others. Her brothers, well, they had each other and in the eyes of their parents could do no wrong.

  When Belinda left work at the end of the day, later than usual because of a heavy caseload, for once she didn’t want to go home, even though it was raining heavily. As she walked slowly and carefully the short distance to her apartment, she heard someone say, “Jesus loves you all the more when it”s raining.”

  Belinda stopped. No one had ever told her with such sincerity and conviction that she was loved.

  “You see, He wouldn’t want you to slip and hurt yourself.” Belinda did not move, her umbrella keeping the worst of the rain off her.

  “Won’t you come in out of the rain for a minute?” asked an inviting voice, “we have coffee and biscuits and it’s nice and warm inside.”

  Belinda allowed herself to be escorted into what she took to be a church hall. Her host plied her with refreshments, sat her down by a roaring fire and asked her what she was doing out on so dreadful a night. The hot coffee, the nourishing biscuits, the warmth of the fire, the cheerful sound of voices all around her, and the unobtrusive attention of her host, all combined to cause Belinda to lower the guard she had so carefully built around herself for more years than she could remember. She replied truthfully that, after a long day at work, she didn’t feel like going home, the radio message she’d been told about preying on her mind.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” her host asked gently. And Belinda did, going all the way back to her reasons for leaving home so many years ago. She had never done this before and it felt good finally to get it off her chest.

  “Should we make that call?” inquired her host after Belinda had been silent for a while. Belinda nodded quietly. In a matter of moments her host lifted her to her feet and led her out to the street where a police car drew up, its emergency lights flashing. Once seated inside, the officer said the journey to the hospital would take about five and half-hours but she would improve on that if she possibly could.

  Throughout the long journey, Belinda’s host told her about a loving, heavenly Father who taught us that we must have forgiveness in our hearts, because only then would He be able to forgive us. Certainly, those who had wronged us should first ask for our forgiveness, but then we should be willing to extend it, on as many as seventy times seven occasions if they were sincere in seeking it.

  Belinda listened with growing interest as her host told her it was often the case that those who did not forgive others caused actual harm to themselves, while those who had wronged them were not even aware they had done so. Belinda’s host urged her, if there was still time, to be reconciled to her brothers and her parents, to forgive them in her heart for whatever wrong she felt they had done to her, and to free herself from the lonely life she had chosen to inflict upon herself.

  “And if there isn’t time?” Belinda had asked.

  “If you sincerely forgive those who have wronged you,” came the reply, “even if you cannot be with them, God will surely forgive you the wrongs you yourself have done. And in so doing, He will bring you such comfort as will then enable you to comfort others, thereby banishing loneliness from your life. The alternative, putting yourself beyond God’s forgiveness, was unthinkable.”

  Belinda’s host had then told her the story of Jesus’ response to His disciples as to whether a man who was born blind suffered that way because of either his own sin or that of his parents. The answer was neither: God had a plan for that man’s life that He was working out, just as He had a plan for Belinda’s life that He was even now working out.

  The hospital security staff were waiting for the police car as it pulled up sharply at the emergency entrance. The nurse who was with them said there might still be time if they hurried. Belinda’s brothers had been in a severe car accident and had now been in intensive care for nearly twenty-four hours. The next hour or so would be critical for their survival. In the meanwhile, visitors were not allowed. There was no word about their parents.

  Not long afterwards, another nurse with a drawn face came out to say she was sorry but the patients were fading fast and were not expected to recover. Belinda was invited into their room, and as their lives slowly ebbed away, she spoke quietly and humbly of the forgiveness she offered to them and their parents, there at her brothers’ bedside. She thanked them for the good times they had had together and said she was sorry for the bad times.

  Belinda became aware of a quiet sobbing in the background. For the first time she sensed the presence of the members of the surgical team gathered in the room to say farewell to two patients they had fought so long and hard to save. Later she was to learn they had done the same for her mother in this very room three years earlier.

  With a composure that was masterful to behold, Belinda hugged and thanked everyone in the room for all their efforts to save her brothers. In so doing, she brought to all a measure of comfort that helped assuage the grief they bore so bravely. Her expression of heartfelt gratitude included the police officer who had driven so expertly in atrocious conditions to bring her to the hospital in record time. The officer stood silently by the door, before offering to take her charge home again whenever she was ready. Belinda sensed that she too had been crying.

  Eventually Belinda was left alone with just her host. Looking down at her brothers through sightless eyes, she reminisced with them some of the good times they had had together as children. For the first time she regretted leaving home, and yet she had planned it all so carefully, even leaving the music on in her room for the family to listen to after she was gone.

  “She’s leaving home...”; Belinda’s voice drifted away into silence.

  “...after living alone for so many years.” It was the soft spoken, kind and gentle voice of her host who finished the sentence for her. As Belinda turned to face her father, she found that she could see.

For further reading: Matthew 6:14-15, 18:21-22; Luke 11:1-4; 2 Corinthians 1:3-4; John 9:1-3