For the protection of individuals and families involved in this story,
certain names have been changed from the original.

DEDICATION
FOREWORD
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’m Not Really Blind,

I Just Can’t See

DEDICATION

Because an autobiography is never the story of one person, this is not simply the story of Joe Ransom. This is the story of people. People that care. It is the story of how love and friendship can change one man’s life. It is to these people that this book is dedicated.

To Pastor Bennett and Pastor Bulluck for pushing me out of the nest.

To Dr. Dalan and David Smith for believing in me.

To James Hernando and Randy Schussman for being there.

To Dana Calef for understanding.

To Joe Teeter for being a friend.

To Michelle for being herself.

To CLC for giving me a chance.

To Evangel and Central Bible College students, faculty, and administration for standing behind me.

But most especially this book is lovingly dedicated to Rick Knoth for never giving up on me and to Ric Muck for his labor of love. As Dorothy said to the Scarecrow, "I think I’ll miss you most of all."

FOREWORD

At the time of this writing I am 25 years old and have been blind for the last two years. But I have seen without my eyes in those two short years what most people never have the privilege of seeing with their eyes.

Not having grown up as a blind person I was not prepared for what happened to me. As a child I read of Louis Braille and Helen Keller, but that was the extent of my knowledge of the world of darkness.

Like most people, I grew up thinking that all blind people lived in a world of total darkness. This is not so. In fact, most blind people can see, even if it is only light. Some blind people, along with the ability to distinguish light, can see color. Still others can see a vague outline if it is in a bright light. I have been very fortunate for I not only see light and color, but, with the use of my imagination, the foggy shadows I see can take on shape. For example, if I was in my drama classroom and I heard someone with heavy footsteps walk in I would begin my process of elimination. The classroom would show me that it was a drama student. The heavy footsteps would tell me that it was a young man. And as he walked by my desk I might catch a glimpse of bright orange from his jacket or smell his musk cologne. In this way I learned to "see" my world.

This is not so much the story of how I learned to cope with my blindness, as it is the story of how I learned to dream. And to work toward fulfilling that dream. For only a dreamer can truly see.

Ronald Joseph Ransom

I’M NOT REALLY BLIND,

I JUST CAN’T SEE

CHAPTER I

The snow was coming down harder now. I curled up even deeper on the sofa as I wrapped the patchwork quilt around me and sipped my hot chocolate. Ah, Heaven!

I was very content with my life. I was involved in a small church in the mountains of Montana. I had a good job working as a dietitian in the local hospital, and I had a cozy apartment. I had no right to ask for more in life, but I had one lifelong dream. College. And since I had become a Christian that dream had enlarged to Bible College. Still, it was only a dream. I reflected on it as I poured myself another steaming cup of hot chocolate and sat down to read Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.

Dickens was interrupted by an impatient knock at the door. I was surprised to find Ron Engstrom, the pastor’s son, home from Western Bible College for the Christmas break. I had met him the week before. As I tried to invite him in he waved my words aside with, "Come on over to my place. Mom has something to tell you. It’s important. Hurry!" I grabbed a jacket and was halfway out the door before I had a chance to ask him what

in the world was going on. He only smiled and said, "You’ll be surprised."

The snow was deep and the walk to the parsonage seemed to take forever. Even after arriving at the Engstroms’ home, it was some time before I could get any answers to my increasing questions. Mrs. Engstrom wanted to be assured, first, that I was warm and dry. When she could see that my patience had long ago run out she sat down and began.

"Joe, you’ve been dreaming about going to Bible College for some time now."

"I never said anything about…"

"You didn’t have to. I could see it in your eyes every time you talked to Ron. You never talked about it because you were so certain it could never happen. Well, go home and pack your bags. You’re leaving tomorrow morning for Western Bible College in North Dakota."

Silence.

"But there’s no way! I have no money. I can’t quit my job, and what about my apartment? I just moved in last week and…"

"That doesn’t matter. I talked to your boss and you are free to leave. As for everything else, God will take care of you. I know that this is what God has for you, and if you don’t go now, you never will."

"But if this is really God talking, He could talk to me about it. He could have told me about it before He told you."

"I think He did."

There was nothing more to say. If the idea was from God, He would have to talk to my landlord because no one else dared get anywhere near him. My hand trembled so badly I didn’t think I could dial his number. One ring. Two rings. Three rings and no answer; maybe he wasn’t at home.

"Hello,"

(Now, I’ve done it!)

"Uh, sir! This is, uh well, uh, my name is Joe Ransom and I’m…"

"I know who you are."

"Yes, well, I know that I just moved into your apartment and it’s a real nice apartment and I like it a lot and…"

"Get to the point."

"Well, sir, I have to give you my notice. I mean, I have to move real soon. You see…"

"When are you leaving?"

"In about two hours."

"I see. You know this is out of the ordinary. I do require 30 days notice and an inspection of the apartment."

"I know but…"

"But in this case I’ll make an exception. I’ll not only pay you back your entire month’s rent, but I won’t even inspect the place. I trust you. Just stop by my office before you leave, and I’ll give you back your money. Is there anything else?"

Uh, no sir. Thank you, sir. That’s very…"

"Good-bye."

This had to be from God! Two hours later I had packed what I could fit in a garbage bag and I was on my way to Allentown, North Dakota. Bible College, here I come!

Montana and North Dakota are known for their bad winters, and that winter was especially bad. I was used to snow-covered mountains and had often wondered if we would have such beauty in Heaven. But after we crossed the mountains in Montana, I noticed that the closer we got to North Dakota the flatter the land became. And the flatter the land, the deeper the snow. The land was as vast as the ocean. Instead of billowing waves, I saw 10-foot snowdrifts. The snow blowing across the road reminded me of dust blowing across the prairie in an old western on TV. Then I noticed that the snow was no longer white. I asked Ron about it and he told me that it was from the pollution. I laughed at that because I knew better. We had been traveling for hours and had not even seen a car in at least three hours. I was beginning to think that there were more cows in North Dakota than there were people. Ron explained to me that the pollution was from the big cities—some of them as far away as Minnesota. Because North Dakota was so flat there was nothing to block the wind. The dust and dirt that blew in from Minnesota gave the snow an ugly color.

Suddenly the idea of moving to North Dakota no longer seemed so inviting. The land was flat and desolate. The snow was gray. The temperature was 40 degrees below zero.

Who did I think I was kidding, after all? I had no way to pay for a private college. If they wouldn’t accept me, I had no money to go home. In fact, I had no home to go to. I was in real trouble. I could not afford to go to college, and after I got there I would not be able to afford to leave. Besides that, it was beginning to look like the North Dakota state tree must be a telephone pole.

Suddenly it loomed upon us. The most beautiful spot on earth, Western Bible College! At the end of Main Street you could see the girls’ dormitory in all its beauty. The reflection of light from the windows shined on the snow. And the snow was as white as any snow I had seen on the mountains back home. In the center of campus was the new chapel with its cross reaching to the sky as a testimony to all who saw it. As I looked at this beautiful oasis all of my fears and doubts vanished. This was my new home. Surely this was where God wanted me. I remembered the sign I had seen as I entered campus: "Behold, He maketh all things new." I looked at my watch. It was just past midnight. Happy New Year.

CHAPTER II

Those first days went by so fast that it made me dizzy. I could not get over the idea that I was surrounded by 300 people my own age. And they were all Christians! My first stop was the chapel. It was to become my secret hideaway in the year to come. I climbed the stairs to the back of the balcony and found that if I curled up behind the sound room no one could see me. God and I were alone in our little corner. I could do nothing but cry out my thanks to a God who loved me so much! I, who years earlier had been a drug addict, was actually in Bible college. Never had a man been more grateful to God.

I knew that I had too much to do to stay in the chapel all day. It really didn’t matter, though, because I could return any time I wanted to.

My next step was my real initiation into college life, the Line. The Line is famous on all college campuses. To register for classes, you first must go through the Line. And when hungry for supper, to eat in the cafeteria, first go through the Line. And when it’s all over, to graduate, go through the Line.

My first Line was the registration line. I had been in line for over an hour when the student directly in front of me finally approached the financial aid director.

"Yes, I see that you are Linda Patrick. And how are you going to pay for your school bill?"

"I have a grant. That is, I think I have a grant, but it hasn’t come in yet, so I’m not sure. But if the grant

doesn’t come in, I’m sure I can get a bank loan from home."

"I see. What you are saying is that you don’t have any money."

"Yes, sir."

"I’m afraid you will have to go through that line in the next room and talk to my secretary. She will give you the proper forms to fill out. Fill them out and then get back into this line and I will see you. If it is after five o’clock when you get back into this line, then I will see you tomorrow. Thank you. Next."

"My name is Ronald Joseph Ransom. I don’t think I’ll be in your files. That is, this is, uh, this is my first semester here."

"I see. And how do you plan to pay your school bill?"

"Well, I don’t know. I don’t have a grant or anything, and I don’t have any money, but I know that God sent me here, so He will pay the bill somehow, I promise."

"What was your name again?"

"Ransom, Ronald Joseph Ransom."

"Oh, yes, I know about you. You are clear to go through registration. Next."

I never did find out how they knew about me. I never asked.

The days passed on. I was given a room in the freshman dorm. I loved it. (Especially since it was next to the cafeteria.) I met my roommate and I started my classes. My new friends told me to be careful because the excitement of being in college would soon wear off. By mid-term I would find that these teachers I loved so much weren’t afraid to give D’s. And they promised me that I would soon tire of Wednesday night hamburgers in the cafeteria. They were wrong. Even after four years of college I could honestly say that the excitement only got better.

Not everything about those early days was great. I had been living on my own for several years before I started college, and I prided myself on my independence. I could handle things myself, thank you. It was very difficult to accept being in bed by ten-thirty. I didn’t mind being told what to do during the weekdays but I felt that my social life was my concern and nobody else’s. Still, I did learn to obey the orders I was given concerning bedtime (10:30 p.m.) And dating (only on weekends and no touching each other!) And study time (7:00 - 9:00 p.m.) And everything else the school told me to do. But my independence had a fight in another area. Because I had lived by myself for so long, it was very difficult for me to handle the idea of a roommate. In fact, I went through five roommates in four months. The first time I changed, I blamed it on my roommate. The second time, it was a coincidence. The third time, I admitted that I was a little hard to get along with. The fourth time, I realized that I had a problem.

I was sure that I was a real headache to many people that wanted to help me. The faculty was used to seeing students like myself and through much patience and even more prayer they eventually saw those students (or at least most of them) mature and graduate from college to become real men and women of God. The more I fought, the more they prayed.

One of the earliest answers to the faculty’s prayers for me came in a way that I did not expect. Several of the students and I became close friends. These friends had more of an influence on my life than I realized at the time: Mark, Greg, Dawn, Virginia, Carol, Pam, and myself. Everything we did, we did together. These friends showed me how much we really needed each other.

During the day we saw each other in classes, in chapel, and during lunch. In the evenings we often went to the snack shop for a Coke and a game of foosball. Some of my most beautiful memories are of two or three of us getting together and praying for each other.

Our friendships had many interesting facets. Virginia and Carol were not just best friends, they were roommates. Now, that was fine except for the fact that I wanted to date both of them. Sometimes I think that the only thing they had in common was their differences. Virginia was loud and impulsive and rebellious. That is what made her so exciting. Carol was quiet and thoughtful and conforming. That is what made her so refreshing.

Carol saw me kiss Virginia goodnight once and refused to speak to me for two weeks. After two weeks of the brush-off, I knew that I had to explain to Carol that it was only a goodnight kiss. I put on my best after-shave and my only suit and set out to confront Carol. It was cold and snowy outside. I was especially cold because I did not have a winter coat over my suit. I bravely climbed the 13 steps to the porch of the girls’ dorm and rang the bell. Eventually someone answered the door and I sent them with the message to get Carol. "And please hurry, it’s cold out here." Carol must have known that it was me because she was in no hurry to come to the door.

She finally came out to the porch.

"Uh, Carol, I want to explain what you saw. It’s not what you think." She stepped closer to me and I stepped back. "See, it was only a goodnight kiss." We each took another step. "Just ask Virginia, she’ll tell you." As I took another step backwards I slipped on the top step and fell off the porch, landing in the snow. Carol was laughing so hard she couldn’t stay angry. Besides, she said she had known about it all the time. Women!

Still, I didn’t learn my lesson. It took me quite a while to figure out what was really going on. Carol and Virginia would cross- examine each other after one of them would go out with me. Then Carol would come to me and say;

"Joe, which of us do you like to be with the most?"

"You, of course."

"Do you have more fun with me than you do with Virginia?"

"Yes, I do."

"What do you like about me that’s better than Virginia?"

"Well, you don’t get angry quite as easily and you’re a lot more feminine and…"

The trouble was that the next week I would have the same conversation with Virginia. When I was with Carol I did enjoy her more, but when I was with Virginia I enjoyed her more than Carol. They both saw this and all three of us knew from the beginning that nothing serious would ever come from our friendships so we never took each other too seriously.

If these friendships were my dessert, my studies were the main course. As I became more and more engrossed in my studies I became even more thankful that I was at Bible College. Within two months even I could see changes in my life. God was doing a major overhaul on my life and I was open for the changes God’s work would bring. I was finally beginning to see that my problem was simply selfishness. I had spent my entire life living only to please me. And when a man lives only for himself, he can never be truly happy inside.

If a person is not used to opening himself up to others he will not be prepared for the pain that comes from loving. I had always felt that love cost too much. I wasn’t willing to pay the price for love because I was afraid of being rejected.

CHAPTER III

Pam introduced me to Jami just a few weeks after school began. Jami was the kind of young lady that every guy on campus wanted to ask for a date, but none of them were brave enough to ask her out. Not only was she very beautiful, she was very talented. She sang, played the piano, and wrote gospel songs. She could even draw! She had long brown hair and her eyes smiled when she laughed.

I liked her immediately but I knew that we could never have a strong relationship. After all, she could have her pick of almost any guy on campus. She would be crazy to pick me. She was crazy. I never did understand why she wanted to spend time with me but I was pleased with her taste in men!

Dating at WBC was discouraged by the faculty and administration, so if we ever went any place together it had to be by "chance." We would often walk to the same bakery (there is only one in town) six or seven times a day. To this day, I still can’t eat a cream-filled donut.

It was good to have someone to talk to, to share my thoughts with. We had common goals and dreams. We each wanted to reach a dying world for Jesus Christ. She wanted to be a gospel singer, and I wanted to be a Christian actor. Maybe we could work something out together? I began to enjoy the snow even more, because although Jami and I were forbidden to hold hands, I could put her arm in mine to help her walk on the icy streets.

Almost accidentally our relationship grew and developed. I had decided when I first came to WBC that I would not date until I had been there for at least a year. I wanted to spend my time studying and growing in the Lord. Jami changed that. I still spent plenty of time studying and trying to grow in the Lord, but now I did it with Jami.

WBC was a well disciplined school, but Jami and I felt that we needed even more discipline. Aside from classes and chapel we decided that during the school week we would not see each other during the day. And we would only see each other at night if both of us had completed our schoolwork. And even then, we would only see each other in a public place.

The discipline I forced upon myself, upon us, was good for me. It helped me mature much faster that I would have otherwise. The physical aspect of our relationship was never much of a problem. Both of us knew what could happen if we let things get out of hand, so we were very careful. Jami was so pure and innocent that the idea of sex before marriage was demeaning. Just holding her hand was enough to please me.

As our relationship grew I knew that I was falling in love. This could never happen to me! I still saw myself as the short, freckle-faced, red-headed, cross-eyed kid that I was in the sixth grade. Although I was far from being a swan I was no longer an ugly duckling.

The Valentine’s banquet was coming up and I wanted it to be very special for both of us. There are only two or three banquets a year at WBC, so the students take the opportunity to impress each other. I just had to impress Jami.

As I look back on it, I acted like a high school junior going to his first prom. I had never been on a "dress up" date before and I was inexperienced.

The first thing I did was to buy a new suit. Then I borrowed $10 from my roommate and went shopping. I went to every store in town. I wanted to buy the biggest, most romantic box of candy that I could find.

I am normally a very emotional, excitable person, and it is very difficult for me to act calm, cool, and collected. As I entered the banquet hall Jami was already in line for dinner, so as calmly as possible I walked up to her and handed her the biggest box of candy either of us had ever seen. Then I took the corsage I had behind my back and started to pin it on her dress. She was beautiful and I was nervous. I was all thumbs and she started to blush. She wanted to help me but knew that it would embarrass me. Finally I turned to the man standing behind her in line and said, "Will you please pin this on her? I can’t seem to work the pin." Now she was really blushing. It was then that I turned around again and saw what I had done. I had just asked the President of the college to pin the corsage on my date!

After Jami and I sat down to eat, it was difficult to start a conversation.

(Boy, Dad must be right. I don’t belong in college. I belong on a horse in the backwoods of Montana.) The moment passed and we smiled at each other.

"I like your suit, Joe. Is it new?"

"Uh, ya’. I bought it this afternoon. It only cost $12 ‘cuz I got it on sale. It was in the little boy’s department. I got a hat too."

(Boy, Joe, that was a dumb thing to say. Now she’s really going to think you’re backwards. Just cool it, will ya?")

"Uh, Jami, you’re very pretty tonight. Would you like some more roast beef?"

Somehow I knew this wasn’t working out, so as soon as I thought it was polite I said, "Jami, it’s hot and stuffy in here. Would you like to take a walk?"

The fresh air felt good as we walked. The deep snow had been cleared from the sidewalks and it was nice to stroll around campus arm in arm. We sat on a bench in front of the chapel and looked at the light shining from the banquet in the cafeteria. For a brief moment I remembered the light from the girls’ dorm that I saw my first night at WBC. No one would miss us at the banquet.

"Jami, I have something to ask you."

"Joe, I’m not ready for…"

"Oh, it’s not that. It’s nothing like that. Something’s been on my mind and I need to talk to you about it."

"Is that why you were so uncomfortable in there?"

"That’s part of it. Jami, why didn’t you ever ask me about my eyes? You can tell by looking at me that something is wrong with them. At least one of them."

"Is that all that’s bothering you? I mean, it’s not like you’re blind or anything. Besides, it’s not important to me. You are who you are regardless of how your eyes look. It wouldn’t make any difference to me even if you were blind. I promise."

"Do you really mean that? Honestly?"

"Sure. Say, this is really bothering you. There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?"

I stood and shuffled my feet. This was going to be harder than I thought. "Let’s go inside somewhere that’s warm. This breeze isn’t good for us."

As we sat in the empty seats of the classroom I began again. "Jami, it is obvious that my left eye is blind. That is because of a freak accident at birth. My right eye was never very good but I could see pretty well with glasses. My parents always told me to wear my glasses but like most kids I never paid much attention to my parents. Because my eyesight was so bad I was never very good at sports. While my brother played football and baseball I was in my bedroom reading. It seemed like reading was the only thing I could do well. My parents always tried to keep me from reading too much because they knew that it was bad for my sight. I think they eventually saw how important books and schoolwork were to me so they were satisfied if I just wore my glasses when I read."

"I always knew, even as a little kid, that if I put too much strain on my eyes I could lose the only eye I had left. I guess I just never let it sink in. Books were too important to me. They were the only true friends I had."

"Well, you know how college is. You can’t help but spend most of your time reading. I don’t want to alarm you or anything but I’ve been having some pretty strong headaches lately and I think I know why."

"But if it’s your eyes, you’ve got to quit school."

"And lose my dream? No, I’ve got to get an education. Besides, I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Probably just my imagination. I had to tell you because you’re so important to me. I don’t want to lose you. No matter what."

"Oh, Joe, you won’t ever lose me. No matter what."

CHAPTER IV

As the next few months passed, Jami and I saw more and more of each other and our love grew. I began to think of my future as our future. I was in love. The only thing left to do was pop the question.

How to ask her to marry me was a real problem. I did not want to be like everyone else. I wanted it to be a special moment for her. I wanted it to be just perfect.

While Jami ate lunch I rehearsed my speech. I decided that right after lunch I would take her hand and we would walk to the park. We would sit on our favorite bench under the oak tree, and I would very romantically ask her to marry me. It did not happen quite as I planned. I walked into the cafeteria and saw her sitting next to Mark and Dawn. Mark knew immediately by my expression that something was up. "Hi, guys. Say, Jami, would you like to go for a walk with me?"

"Thanks, Joe, but I’ve got a lot of schoolwork to do. Was they’re anything special you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, yes there is."

"You can tell me here. Cone on and sit down; I’ve got a few minutes."

"Well, I really need to see you alone. It’s kinda’ personal."

"I don’t understand. What is it?"

I took a deep breath.

"Well, Jami, if I, not that I would, of course, but if

I uh, well, would you? I mean you wouldn’t have to quit school or anything, and I, uh, could get a job and work and uh, if anything happened like uh, you know, like what happens when people get, uh, you know, then you could get a job to pay the extra expenses and, uh, well you know what I mean?"

"Joe, I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about."

Mark and Dawn started humming the Wedding March and all eyes in the cafeteria were staring at Jami and me. This was not the way I planned it!

Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed Jami by the arm and ran through the cafeteria and into the snack shop below the girl’s dorm. (Good! At least no one’s down here. Now maybe I can propose the way I want to!)

I half pulled Jami to a far table at the end of the snack shop. She had figured out what I was trying to do, and she thought it was funny. She was really enjoying herself!

"Jami, I uh, well I really l-l-l-…"

"What was that?"

"Will you mar-r-r…"

"Are you trying to say something?" She tried as hard as possible not to laugh. She knew that I was trying to say ‘I love you’ and ‘Will you marry me?’ but couldn’t get the words out. Just then Dawn came down the stairs and joined us at our table.

"I hope I’m not disturbing you." Snicker, snicker.

"You are!"

"Good. Proposals are such fun."

That was just what I needed! It was hard enough for me to deal with one girl, and now I had two of them to deal with. This was not my day.

I did not know it at the time, but while I was trying to propose to Jami, the snack shop was quietly filling up with everyone from the cafeteria. I would not have had a more attentive audience on the NBC Nightly News!

I could not stand it anymore. "Well, will you?"

"Not until you ask me properly." She had the nerve to smile!

I took a deep breath and leaned back so my chair was on its back legs. "One . . . Two . . . three . . . Jami will you marry . . ."

My chair fell over.

At that point the entire snack shop filled with laughter and applause. I had never been more embarrassed in my life. I grabbed Jami by the hand and pulled her from her chair. I pushed her between two Coke machines and squeezed in after her.

"Jami, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

She did not speak. Her head was bowed and when she raised it and her eyes met mine I saw the wet spots on her cheeks. She was so beautiful! She nodded her head yes and smiled. For the first time I kissed her on the lips and we slowly walked out from between the Coke machines. As our audience saw us the room filled with cheers. Never had two people been more happy.

As the days passed I felt like a little boy again. My relationship with God grew as my relationship with Jami grew. For the first time in my life everything was going even better than I could have hoped for.

Jami and I were careful to spend most of our time doing schoolwork, and we were each involved in weekend traveling ministries. What little time we did spend together will always be a cherished memory. Snowball fights. Hot chocolate at the bakery. Walks around town in the cool evenings as summer neared. I had everything that any man could ever ask for.

Our first time apart from each other came shortly before the end of the school year. During spring break I decided to stay on campus and take a couple of classes while Jami went with a traveling ministry to several states in the area. I had two comprehensive courses during the break and I was thankful because it helped to ease the loneliness. I missed her so much. Her letters were filled with exciting news about the results of her work. I was just beginning to realize what a special young lady I was going to marry.

The headaches became more common during spring break, but I assumed that it was simply because of the extra schoolwork. After all, I had to write an entire term paper and I had only two weeks to do it. That would give anyone a headache! Still, I should see a doctor. I decided that I would wait until after school was out in May.

I was worried when Jami and her group did not return on schedule. No one had heard from the group for several days and by then the whole school was wondering what had happened to them. It was at breakfast a week and a half later that I learned that the team had just returned. I was determined to stay "cool" and not let her, or anyone else, know how much I missed her. Mark, sitting next to me, asked me if I was nervous.

"No, of course not."

"Uh, are you sure?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Because you just poured orange juice on your pancakes and maple syrup in you milk!"

Because I was not allowed to officially become engaged during my freshman year I was not allowed to give Jami an engagement ring. That really didn’t matter much because I couldn’t afford one anyway.

Instead of a ring I bought her a gold bracelet with her name inscribed on the front. On the back was the inscription: "Jami, I will love you forever, Joe." As far as we were concerned, that bracelet was more precious than any engagement ring would ever be.

The last days of school were filled with final tests, banquets, and tearful good-byes. It felt good to know that most of my friends would be back next year. (Honest, Joe, three months won’t last forever.) Jami and I decided on a July wedding. As she went home to do whatever it is that young ladies do to prepare for a wedding, I made plans to buy a travel-trailer for us to live in. I had very little money and my new job at the restaurant held little prospect of a "Future" so we had to be very careful with our finances. I found a 20-foot-long travel-trailer that seemed perfect for us. It was small enough for us to travel in yet large enough for us to live in, at least temporarily. I enjoyed teasing Jami about it and told her that after we were married, the first time she chased me around the trailer with a rolling pin and I had no place to hide, we would have to move.

I moved to Stilltower, South Dakota, when the semester was over. I missed Jami but I knew that in one month we would be married. (Come on, Joe, you can last one month!) I planned on having a busy summer. I was involved in two churches in Stilltower and I was working in two restaurants.

Along with this I made the 80-mile round trip drive to Allentown whenever possible to see friends that had stayed at WBC for the summer.

Like others, I had believed that the true Christian never suffers real pain, that the Christian life is full of roses. I had forgotten that roses have thorns.

I was not prepared for the phone call in the middle of the night. No one ever is. The words on the other end of the line sounded hollow.

"Hello?"

"Joe? This is Mrs. Gilbert. Jami’s mother."

(Why is she crying?) "Mrs. Gilbert, what’s wrong? Is it Jami? Is she all right?"

"Joe, I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s been an accident."

"Wh-what happened?" I sat down.

"Jami is…Jami is dead,"

(No! It can’t be. I just talked to her yesterday on the phone.)

"She had just picked up her…her wedding dress."

(Oh, no, Jesus, this can’t be. Please don’t let it be.)

"She was on her way home and this drunk driver, he…"

"Mrs. Gilbert, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? I know how close you were. She told me so much about you. Please let me help. I’ve got to do something for you, for her."

"No. There’s nothing any of us can do now. Joe, I know how much she loved you. She always tried to get us together before the wedding. I’m sorry it had to be this way instead of at the wedding."

"Mrs. Gilbert, remember, she is part of the bride of Christ and He called her to Him. That’s the wedding that really matters. She is now with her eternal Husband, and she is happy beyond our comprehension. We don’t understand how these things happen, but God knows and we must trust Him."

It was only by God’s grace that I survived the next weeks. Somehow He gave me the strength to go to work. I walked as a robot. I was too hurt to cry. I thought that if I cried I would have to give her up forever. I still wanted to cling to her as long as possible.

After about two months I noticed that not every thought was of her. One day I realized that I had smiled. Another day I laughed. God’s strength was sustaining me. I had never been more alone. And God had never been more real.

A few weeks before school was to start again I received a special letter in the mail. The return address was from Indiana. (But I don’t know anyone from Indiana. Anyone except…) It was from Mrs. Gilbert. She had sent me the bracelet I had given Jami. Somehow it had been destroyed in the mail. It was broken into several pieces and I knew that it could not be repaired. I went into the trailer and knelt by the couch.

"Why God? It’s the only thing I have left from her. Why did the post office have to break it? It’s the only thing I have."

Quietly I was reminded of a picture Jami had drawn for me the night I gave her the bracelet. I dug through the boxes in the closet until I found it. I put it on the table and let my mind take me back to the night she drew it for me. It was a drawing of the empty tomb of Christ. Across the top were the words, "He is not here; He is risen". That was the way God wanted me to remember Jami. She was no longer here; she was in Heaven. At last I let the tears flow freely for the girl I loved. Good-bye, Jami. I will love you forever.

CHAPTER V

I continued to work in the restaurants for the rest of the summer. While I worked in one of the churches in Stilltower I met a man who would become one of the best friends I would ever have. His name was Randy Schussman. We spent many hours sitting at his kitchen table eating his wife’s good cooking and discussing the Bible. There were many things that we did not agree on, but we were both sincere and we were willing to change our minds if God showed us we were wrong. Randy helped to ease the pain of losing Jami. He took me in as his "little brother" and I am still his "little brother" today. God knew that I needed a good friend after Jami’s death, so He sent me Randy. I will always be grateful for his friendship.

School started in September, but I did not feel ready to move back to Allentown. Instead, I stayed in Stilltower and commuted the 80 miles every day. It would have been too difficult for me to be surrounded by the active social life of a college campus. Pam, Dawn, Carol, Virginia, Greg, Mark, and I renewed our friendship and spent as much time as possible together. They helped me through the roughest time of my life.

When the first snow fell at the end of October I knew that I had to move back to Allentown because it was no longer possible to commute every day. I moved to a small trailer court just outside the city limits. With friendships renewed, at least three or four times a week we had pizza parties at my place. I enjoyed the company and

they enjoyed having a chance to get off campus. Saturdays we spent doing schoolwork together. We all had a lot to learn about maturity but our love for each other really helped us.

My trailer had not been built with North Dakota winters in mind. The water heater was on the outside and every time the wind blew (which was most of the time) it would blow out the pilot light. The result was that most of the time I had no hot water. The trailer was not insulated and when the wind blew, a chill went right through. In fact, we could sit at one end of the trailer and watch the curtains at the other end move every time the wind blew. If it was a very strong wind it would cause the entire trailer to rock back and forth like a rowboat. That never stopped us though. We would cover up the windows and the door with blankets and then we would sit close together on the couch and put the rest of the blankets around us as we ate pizza and studied.

That was the worst winter I had ever seen. Because we seemed to be living in a perpetual blizzard, it was dangerous for me to walk to and from school by myself. It was impossible to get a vehicle, even a four-wheel drive, through the snow to my place. At one time the snow had so completely buried one side of my trailer that I was stranded at home for three days before I could get out. I had no phone, so I was unable to get help, and when the school noticed that I was missing, they sent a team of four men to try to find me. The wind was so strong that they had to walk arm in arm in order not to lose anyone.

As cold and as hard as that winter was, it was still very special to me. Winter will always be my favorite part of the year. The pain of losing Jami wasn’t as strong anymore, and I was filling my time with making new memories. I was now able to remember Jami without all the hurt in my heart.

One of the most memorable times of my life occurred that winter. It was late in the afternoon and I was walking home from school. It was a clear and beautiful day but the wind was bitterly cold and forced me to walk with my head down to avoid the chill. I was within sight of the trailer court when I heard a large truck coming toward me. I looked up and thought that it was a strange time of year for a truck to be pulling a travel-trailer. The driver waved at me, and I waved back. I thought it was interesting that the trailer he was pulling was the same size and brand as mine.

By now I was at the entrance to the trailer court and I was stunned when I saw that my trailer was gone. I had just waved to the man that had stolen my home!

As I turned around I saw the taillights of my trailer fade into the sunset. I should have at least been furious. Maybe even frightened. But it was so ironic and so funny that all I could do was sit on the snow where my trailer had been and laugh! This was unbelievable!

The only thing for me to do was walk back to the school and report what had happened. They would never believe this!

It was several days before I discovered what had happened. In the meantime I stayed in the men’s dorm with Mark and Greg. The faculty told me not to tell anyone what had happened, but when I went to class the next day wearing jeans I had a lot of explaining to do. Men were not allowed to wear jeans to class, but because the rest of my clothes were in the trailer I had no choice.

One of my instructors received a phone call a few days later and was told about my trailer. It seems that the water pipes on the trailer had frozen and it was causing problems for the other trailers in the area. Instead of notifying me of the problem the landlord simply took it upon himself to remove the trailer. It was sitting in his driveway, and would I please come to pick it up?

Because of that incident the school let me move into the men’s dorm for the rest of the school year. My trailer would be safely stored behind the cafeteria.

Christmas came and went. With February came the Valentine’s banquet. Again it was held in the cafeteria. This year I did not buy a new suit or a box of candy. I did not go for a nice walk around campus. Instead, I sat in my trailer. My memories and I. As I listened to the music from the cafeteria I realized that as much as I missed Jami, I could never wish her back with me. I would not do it even if I could. She was happier in Heaven than I could make her on earth.

Although much appeared to be the same as it was a year ago, some things had indeed changed. I had grown a year older. Jami was no longer by my side. My friendships with other students had grown stronger. And I was going blind.

I knew it for sure now, but I still did not admit it. My friends could tell what was happening, but we never spoke of it. They knew I would speak when I was ready.

It was harder for me to read for any length of time, and the headaches were becoming unbearable. I was scared, and when I finally went to see an eye specialist, he told me to quit school.

"And if I quit school, will I still lose my sight?"

"Probably. But it could be years before that happens. Your eye is infected and the more you read and strain your eye, the faster the infection works. Your optic nerve is damaged, and I don’t think I can stop the infection. I can only postpone it, and that means you must quit school. At least for now."

"Doctor, if I quit school, even for a while, I know I will never go back. You said yourself that I will probably go blind even if I quit school. Then what would happen? I would be blind and I would have no education. That is not a choice. I am going back to school and somehow, someday, I will graduate. If I have to go blind, it’s a small price to pay for an education."

As the school year came to an end I knew that I had to start making plans for the summer. Most of the seniors would be starting their new lives working in churches and other ministries. Most of the rest of us would be going home to our families when school was out. That option was not available to me. When I first left home, before I was even out of high school, I decided that I would never return to live with my family. It was not because I hated my family. It was simply because I felt that when I left home I was supposed to stand on my own two feet. Besides, my father and stepmother were living on a small government pension, and they did not need another mouth to feed. And I wasn’t ready to tell them about my failing eyesight. Not yet. Why worry them?

I decided to stay in Allentown and work for the summer. I got a job working in a new restaurant in town and I loved my work. But where would I live? I did not want to move back into my travel-trailer. The memories would be too strong. Instead, I sold the trailer and bought a 45-foot-long mobile home and set it in the trailer court my other trailer had been in. It took quite a lot of pleading with the landlord to let me move back in, but since there was only one trailer court in town, he finally gave in and let me move my trailer onto his land.

As summer passed I looked forward to the coming school year with new expectancy. This would be my last year. At last I would graduate!

I enjoyed being with my old friends again. And now that I had a larger trailer we had more fun. We were constantly having surprise birthday parties. After about the fifth party I wonder how many friends were really surprised to be invited to my place when their birthdays came around.

At the beginning of the school year, I made a terrible mistake. One that I regretted for a long time to follow. A friend and I had been talking about what our lives were like before we came to college and I casually told him about my past.

"Joe, I heard that you used to be on drugs. Is that true?"

A flood of memories swept over me.

"Yes, John. But it was a long time ago."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, it started when I began high school. Things at home weren’t going very well and I needed an escape. There was nowhere for me to go so I started taking pills and … other things. When I decided I couldn’t stay at home anymore, I left. I moved around a lot but my problems always went with me. I started taking more and more drugs. It began to affect my schoolwork and that in turn made me takes more drugs. It was like a dead-end circle. Finally, on my eighteenth birthday I took too many pills, and when I woke up, I was in the hospital fighting for my life. That really scared me, and when I started to take a better look at my life I wasn’t very proud of what I saw. I had ruined my health with drugs. I had been arrested for several minor offenses and I was on a fast track to nowhere."

"Then what happened?"

"I had pretty much lost all connections with family and friends, and I was struggling just to stay alive. And when I wasn’t on drugs I was trying to support myself and work my way through high school. I decided that I needed to start my life over again, so as soon as I was released from the hospital I moved to a motel in Missoula, Montana, to try and get my life back together again. After a fight with school officials I was finally allowed to return to high school. Because of my past I was considered so dangerous that two schools would not accept me as a student, and it was only with a long, drawn out fight that a third school let me enroll."

"And you lived happily ever after, right?"

My voice cracked as I continued. "No, not exactly. By sheer will power I was able to stop taking drugs and by all outside appearances things seemed to be turning in my favor. I was able to get a job as a custodian and later I was able to work for the state forestry service. I moved into a two-room apartment and then as my finances increased, I was able to move into a small trailer house. In March, I even graduated early from high school."

"I don’t get it. That sounds pretty good to me. What’s wrong with that?"

I spoke slowly as I groped for words to express my feelings.

"Well, John, it wasn’t enough that my physical circumstances changed. You see, I was still the same person inside. I was still restless. I had not changed. I felt dirty and lonely. I was no happier than I had been as a drug addict. As I thought about my life I remembered other people. There was a teacher in Tacoma, Washington. He was a Christian and a great influence on my life. He spent many long hours telling me about how Jesus Christ had died for me so that I could have a real, genuine life. And he proved his words by the way he lived. I had never met a man like that.

"And then when I was in the hospital for drug abuse, I met a preacher who came to the hospital every day to see someone from his church. This preacher really bothered me. He was always happy and friendly. Every time he asked me to visit his church I gave him a hard time--"Hey, man, I don’t need that. I can make it on my own!"

"Finally I realized that I couldn’t make it on my own, and several months after I was released from the hospital, I visited his church on Sunday morning. As the pastor shook my hand after the service, I told him that I would never come back. I came back that night. He spoke very simply that night and said that Jesus Christ died on a cross for me and that if I really wanted to live, all I had to do was ask Jesus into my heart and have Him forgive me of all my sins and mistakes.

"As millions of people had done before me, I knelt at a wooden bench and asked Jesus Christ into my life. And as Jesus forgave me for my past, I also forgave myself. That was the beginning of my life."

"And then you lived happily ever after, right?"

I laughed. "Not exactly, but it has been easier for me since then."

John thought that it was his duty to tell other people about my past. And as more people were told about the antics of my past the story grew, and the more it grew the less truth it held. Finally, the inevitable happened. I was called in to see the dean.

I had been sitting in his outer office fidgeting for about 15 minutes before he called me in.

"Have a seat, Joe." He looked very serious as he eyed the papers on his desk. "Joe, it has come to my attention that you have been telling people some uncomfortable stories about yourself." He looked at his papers instead of looking at me. "That you have used drugs. That you have a prison record. The list goes on. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Well, sir, as far as the list is concerned, I’m sure that there is probably some truth to at least most of it. After all, most rumors are based on truth. But no, it is not all true. That doesn’t matter, though, because the things I am accused of doing happened before I ever came to WBC.

"As for your not knowing about them, frankly, sir, that’s none of your business. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but whatever happened before I became a Christian should not be held against me. Jesus Christ forgave me a long time ago. And you don’t ask all of the other students about their pasts, so you have no right to ask me about mine.

"Besides, if you look at your records you will find that I did tell you about my past. I didn’t tell all the gross details, but my application for acceptance here tells you very plainly that I made a lot of mistakes in the past. And that’s exactly what they are. Mistakes. And in the past."

"I see. Well, if I hear any more about this concerning you we will have to take action. What I am concerned with is the here and now, and if you do not bring any more attention to yourself, we will forget the matter. You may consider this as a warning. You are dismissed."

I was scared. From that day on I did not know how to act or what to say. I was afraid that anything I said could and would be used against me in a court of law. The stories did continue, and all I could do was pray for the man spreading them. I knew all along that it was John, but I couldn’t hate him. I could only feel sorry for him. And pray for him.

That, as scary as it was, was not my major problem at the moment. I was seeing more and more doctors. And they all said the same thing. I was going to lose my sight. Schoolwork was becoming more difficult and I was finding it harder to walk to school, but I kept on. I had no choice.

During the first weeks of the school year I had met another man that would greatly influence my life. Jim Hernando. He taught Greek at WBC. When I could not take the pressure any longer, it was to him that I went. I told him the truth about my past. I told him the stories that were going around campus, and I told him the thing that I feared most. I told him I was going blind.

As the weeks continued, Jim and I spent a lot of time together. Whenever I needed a mature friend to talk to, I would stop by his office. No matter what he was doing or how busy he was, he dropped everything just to spend time with me. His friendship has always been very special.

One of my favorite things to do was (and still is) to cook for other people. So it was natural that Jim and I combine our favorite things to do. Every Saturday morning Jim would come over to my place and I would fix him a fancy breakfast. Omelets, toast, hash browns, sausage, juice. The works. And after breakfast we would sit and talk about the Bible and tell each other what Jesus was doing in our lives. It felt good to spend time with a friend and forget about my problems and frustrations, even if it was only for a short while.

I sensed for a long time that I would be called in to talk to the dean again, but I did not expect to have to confront the president of the college.

I knew before I walked into his office that I would be told to leave WBC. I was thankful that he let me talk to the committee in his office.

"Sir, I know what I am accused of. I also know that I am innocent. You have told me to leave, and I don’t hold it against you. I can see things from your point of view and whether I am guilty or not isn’t the issue here. It doesn’t look good for the school to have me here, and if other people who support WBC knew about me they might stop sending you money. Or they might not let their kids come here. You are doing what seems right to you, so I can’t argue with you. I just want you to know that somewhere I will finish my education, and no matter where I go, I will never say anything against this school to anyone. I love it more now than I did when I first came here. I am very grateful for all that you have done for me. As far as I am concerned, WBC is as close to Heaven as I will get on earth, and I will never forget this place. The best years of my life were spent here."

It was not until I saw Jim and told him what had happened that I let the tears flow. Why? Why did I have to be kicked out of school for something I did not do? And why did it seem like I would never graduate?

My first concern was to get back on my feet and start walking again. Yes, school had been interrupted. My whole life had been interrupted. But somehow, somewhere, I was determined to finish school. There was no question about it!

CHAPTER VI

My mind reflected on the events of the past few days as I was jostled around in the crowded pickup cab. I had said good-bye to my friends and to their question "Where are you going?" I could only tell them that I did not know where I was going. I only knew that I had to leave Allentown, and I had to finish school. I talked the situation over with Jim, and he told me that I should go to Springfield, Missouri, because Evangel College is in Springfield; and since I wanted a drama degree along with a Bible degree I should at least check out Evangel. What could I lose?

A friend of mine was taking his family to Arkansas for the Christmas break, and he offered to pull my trailer with his pickup and drop me off in Springfield. So now I was in a pickup cab with him, his wife, their two children, and their pet dog. Needless to say, it was rather uncomfortable, especially by the second day of travel.

The roads in North and South Dakota were very icy at the time and my trailer was really too large to pull with his little pickup. Still, we decided it would be worth a try. In order to keep my mind off of the swaying trailer in back of me, I spent my time thinking about another Christmas break. Two years earlier at the same time of year I was moving to North Dakota. Now I was moving to Missouri. I had the same problem to face now as I had then. What if they don’t accept me? My grades at WBC had been very good, so I knew that would not be a problem. But what would I do if WBC wrote on my records that I had been kicked out of school. If they did not let me go to school in Springfield, I would still be forced to stay there because I had no money and no job. I had been through this same problem before and God had helped me then; so surely He would help me now. With new peace of mind, I went to sleep with a shaggy dog on my lap.

The farther south we traveled, the more beautiful the landscape became. I had almost forgotten how beautiful hills and trees could be. By our second morning of travel we had left the snow far behind us. I was becoming impatient as we drew close to Missouri. I was going to make a new life for myself in Springfield, and God was going to work everything out for me.

It was about 11 o’clock at night when we finally reached Springfield. Our first stop was a service station so we could get directions to my new trailer court. The attendant had such a strong Ozark accent that it took us five minutes before we could understand his directions. Within two weeks I would not hear a difference between these people and the people from up north.

It was dark when we pulled into the trailer court, but the lights around the swimming pool exposed the colorful leaves on the trees. It was amazing to realize that two days earlier I was in snow up to my waist and now I was wearing a short sleeve shirt and enjoying 65-degree weather. As we pulled into the trailer lot and he turned off the ignition, we heard a strange clicking sound. The tongue on the trailer broke as he turned off the ignition. God had seen to it that the trailer went as far as it was intended to go, but when it had reached its destination, God let us know that it was to go no farther.

After I had been settled in for a few days and was becoming comfortable with the area, I decided to walk to Evangel to see my new school. Christmas had been a sad time for me, and I needed to lift my spirit. I was feeling lonely and more than a little sorry for myself.

It was a peaceful night for a walk. After walking for about two hours, I could see the campus ahead of me. Something was wrong. I enjoyed walking around campus, but for some reason it did not feel like home. Not like WBC had. Why, Lord? Then God spoke to my heart. He told me that this was not His place for me. At least not now. I would go to Evangel someday, but this was not the time.

As I walked toward home I thought about what God was telling me. And I wondered where God wanted me in the meantime. I knew that He wanted me in Springfield, and I knew He wanted me in college, or at least I thought He did. Could I have been wrong?

Somehow I took a wrong turn that night, and I did not notice it at first because I was deep in thought. Then out of the night came the school. Central Bible College. That wrong turn was not a mistake after all. As soon as I saw the school I knew that it was where God wanted me. CBC has a beautiful campus, and is even more beautiful at night under the campus lights. I stood on a little footbridge and listened to the water trickle as I prayed and thanked God for sending me to Springfield. I looked at my watch. It was just past midnight. Happy New Year.

I was very grateful that when WBC sent my school records to CBC they did not mention why I left school. God and WBC were very good to me. I was looking forward to starting school again. In the meantime I had two weeks to get to know my way around town. Because I lived five miles from campus I decided that the first thing for me to do was buy a bicycle. The bicycle made me realize just how much my sight was failing. I had 10 accidents in five days. My sight was so poor that it was no longer safe for me to ride a bike. That scared me, so I decided to see another eye specialist. The eye specialist put me in touch with a vocational rehabilitation center. My advisor at the rehabilitation center told me that I should quit school and learn a useful trade. I told him a trade was fine for a blind man but that I was going to finish college and asked if his organization would help pay my school bill. He said it would.

Up to that point I had received government grants which paid for most of my school. I worked in restaurants to pay the rest of my bills. But now I was finding that no one would hire me. No one had any use for a man that was going blind.

Because I could not find a job, I was having a hard time financially. Grants were still available to pay for most of my schooling, but it was hard for me to take care of my other bills. I had applied for a social security disability pension but it would be several months before I would receive my first check. I was trying to make my trailer payments, trailer lot payments, utility bills, and grocery bills with only $70 a month.

I had a stubborn pride and I refused to ask for help unless I had no choice in the matter. In fact my pride was so strong that as my sight continued to fail I refused to use a white cane. White canes were for "blind people." Instead, I used a walking cane and let everyone think I had a bad leg. It was easier for me to accept.

In late January when the first snow came, I knew I was in trouble. I had no money for heating fuel and I would wake up in the morning to find as much ice on the inside of my bedroom window as there was on the outside of the window. I went for long periods of time without food, and that was especially dangerous because I was walking 10 miles a day in the snow back and forth to school. The water pipes on the trailer all froze, and I went the winter without any water. To wash myself or my clothes I used snow that I brought in from outside. I was thankful for the snow because as long as I had snow I would have drinking water and water to wash with. I no longer minded the long walk to school because it was warmer outside the trailer than it was inside the trailer.

It was during this time that I learned about true Christian love. Several of the students at CBC found out about my situation. One of them bought me a warm winter coat and had someone else give it to me because he wanted to remain anonymous. Another student found an old oil drum and made me a wood burning stove for my living room. It smoked the place up quite a bit, but at least I was warm; so the smell of smoke was like the smell of a dozen fresh-cut roses. As he left my place he handed me an envelope. Inside was $60. I knew that it was a real sacrifice for him to give me that money, and I will never forget his gesture of love. Several other students insisted on buying lunch for me several times a week. God was meeting my needs in a very beautiful way.

I will never forget the first time that they bought me lunch in the CBC cafeteria. I don’t think I had ever seen such a large selection of food in one place. At least that’s the way it seemed. As I sat down with my friends to eat lunch, it was hard for me to hold back the tears as I thanked God for the food and for my friends. But as I listened to the people around me I could hardly believe what I was hearing. So many students were complaining about the food. It was cold. It was salty. It didn’t taste like Mom’s home cooking. Maybe it didn’t taste like Mom’s home cooking, but to me it tasted better than that. It tasted lake manna from Heaven. Soon after that, one of the teachers found out about my financial situation and told the cafeteria manager to give me lunch every day and to charge it to his personal account. That was true Christian love in action!

The highlight of the school year, at least as far as I was concerned, was my being part of a traveling ministry group for spring break. About 10 of us had joined together as a drama group, and we were going all the way to California to perform "Games Christians Play." Along with being part of the group, I would be doing some of my own Christian drama. Our team was to be combined with another ministry group, and there would be about 30 of us altogether. We were going to be traveling farther from Missouri than any other group from CBC had traveled in the past. I was certain that the administration office would be checking on us very closely.

For several weeks before we left, we met once a week with all of the other traveling ministries and we prayed together. We asked God to give us strength and to help us minister. And we asked Him to give us results. We truly wanted to be servants of God.

The more we rehearsed our drama, the more it became obvious that I was having difficulty seeing what we were doing. With a lot of help from other cast members I was able to look somewhat less conspicuous.

The two weeks spent in California changed my life in ways I would never have dreamed possible. It was a long, boring drive to California and our patience with each other grew short. We were traveling as a convoy, and it was hard for us to keep track of all the cars in our group—especially in a downpour. We almost did not arrive on time. Just about everything that can go wrong on a long trip went wrong. Flat tires. Burned up engines. The works. As we pulled into Texas in the middle of a snowstorm, one of the cars crawled its last mile and died. After a long delay and a reshuffling of passengers, we were on our way again. We pulled into Los Angeles about an hour before the church service was to start.

The church building and the people of the church were very special. The church was obviously built by a Spanish congregation. It was whitewashed and had a flat roof. The buildings of the church formed a square, and in the center of the square was a beautiful garden with large shade trees and little wooden benches. The church was beautiful, but at the same time it was very simple. The congregation was half Spanish-speaking and half English-speaking. Two services were always going on at the same time.

Our mornings were filled with drama rehearsals and painting the church. The rest of the day we would divide ourselves into two groups. One group would stay at the church and paint while the other group would go out by twos and walk the streets to tell everyone about the church and to tell as many people as possible about the love and saving grace of Jesus Christ.

Our evenings were spent with our "host" families. We had been divided into several groups, and each of us was to stay with a family from the church. The family I stayed with was Spanish, but they spoke English fluently. They were very good to us. I have never in my life eaten as well as I did during those two weeks. Our host mother spoke English, but, boy, could she cook Spanish! Our host family took us to see the sights of Hollywood. It was an unforgettable experience. One of the CBC students that stayed with the same family I did was later to become one of my best friends. His name was Dana Calef. After we returned to Springfield he would prove to be a valuable friend when I really needed one.

As much as I loved the drama work I was doing, the most important part of my ministry was being involved in the street witnessing teams that went out during the days. At first it was very difficult for me to start a conversation with a stranger and ask him if he knew Jesus Christ as his personal Savior. But the more I practiced and the more I studied witnessing from the Bible, the easier it became. We prayed that the people would be responsive to us, but we never expected God to answer our prayers in the way He did. At one home we were met at the door by two ladies that looked and acted like they belonged on The Waltons. They promptly told us that they had their own religion, and they had no time to waste with us. As we thanked them for their time and turned to leave, their poodle darted from its hiding place behind the couch and attacked us. He bit us both, but he did not do any real harm. His actions startled the ladies so much that they asked us back in; and as they bandaged our legs, we had another chance to tell them of the love of Jesus Christ. We talked to them for over an hour. Thank God for poodles!

One of the most obvious lessons I learned during my stay in California is what Jesus meant when He told His disciples how difficult it was for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. Most of the homes we visited were of very wealthy families. It seemed that the more money a family had the less they wanted to hear the Good News of Jesus Christ. They were content with their material possessions. It was sad to see these families trying to convince us that they had all they needed without Christ. The poorer people, however, received us gladly. They knew that something was missing in their lives and that what they were looking for was not money. By the end of my two-week stay, I knew that I would be changed when I returned to Springfield. I would no longer ignore my neighbors, but I would tell all who would listen to me of the love of Jesus Christ.

My strongest memory of the trip will always be of my last Sunday. That was when we were scheduled to perform "Games Christians play," and I was to do my other drama.

Suddenly, right before we were to go on stage I became so sick that I could hardly stand up. I did not know what was wrong, but there was no way I could perform. Then we heard our cue to start and I was pushed onto the stage. I had no choice but to perform! After I had said my first line, I began to feel at ease, and by the time I had said my third line I was no longer sick. I began to realize that my being sick was simply my body’s reaction to my being nervous. It was a problem I would carry for several years.

After the play was over, I was anxious to find out the response from the audience. I had dreamed of a drama ministry for several years, and I wanted confirmation that drama could be used as a tool of ministry. The response was beautiful. Many people were touched by the message of the play and told me that God had used the play to change their lives. That was when God told me that my dream would soon become a reality. Yes, I would finish school and God would use me to minister through drama.

The long ride back to Springfield was filled with thoughts of what lay ahead. I was excited about what God was doing in my life. Yes, things would be different when I returned home. Home. I had never thought of Springfield as home before, but now the word "home" seemed to fit perfectly. I was going home, and for the first time in my life, I was homesick. It was a good feeling.

CHAPTER VII

The day I returned to Springfield I received a telegram from my sister in Missoula, Montana. It said Grandma had died. By the time I received the telegram, the funeral was over. I was in California when she died, and no one could get in touch with me. I borrowed the plane fare from the school and immediately flew to Montana. It was too late for me to do anything to help, but it was important for me to make the trip. One thought was in my mind the entire time I was in Montana; I should have written Grandma one last letter to tell her I loved her. I should have telephoned her. Grandma had done more for me than any other person in my family, and I knew I would miss her greatly. I also knew that I would never again miss an opportunity to let friends know that I loved them.

While I was in Montana there was no way I could avoid letting my relatives see that I was losing my sight. But still I refused to use a white cane. I used my walking cane and did not discuss my eyesight. The subject never came up. There was nothing I could do in Montana, so I returned to Springfield after only a few days.

From the day I returned to school until the end of the semester I was noticing a change in my sight almost daily. By the time summer school was to start, I was no longer able to read print. Because I had become used to the idea of becoming blind and because I was so busy doing schoolwork, I did not have much time to feel sorry for myself. I did not feel the shock that I would have felt if I had lost my sight in a sudden accident. And the more I studied my Bible, the more I saw that even if I did not understand what was happening, God knew all about it, and that was what was important. If God had a reason for me to be blind, if He could use me more effectively if I was blind, then I would not complain. I knew that God had the power to heal me and that if He did I would be thankful; but if He chose not to heal me, I would not complain. Besides, I would be healed in Heaven anyway. Either way I could not lose.

My world changed completely. The thing that was the hardest for me to accept was that I could not read print. That was especially difficult for me because I had to do my schoolwork somehow. And that was how Michelle came into my life. Michelle was a very beautiful blind girl. She was attending Evangel College part-time, and she worked at the Springfield Association for the Blind. She had been blind since birth, and she was very adept at reading Braille. From the first time that she came to my home to give me Braille lessons, I was impressed with her. She had a beautiful personality, and I was told that she was just as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside. She was very beautiful indeed.

I needed to learn Braille very quickly and forced myself to learn the Braille alphabet in two weeks. My fingers were not yet sensitive enough to read the small dots, but I was at least able to take notes in Braille. It was a small start, but it was still a start.

By then my walking cane was useless to me, and I had to do the one thing I never wanted to do. I had to learn to use a white cane. The first cane I was given was made of wood, and I was rather awkward with it until Michelle taught me how to use it properly. As much as I had accepted the idea of going blind there was still a part of me that was scared. I was afraid of what being blind would do to me as a person. I had to release my fears and hurts from inside. After Michelle had given me my first lesson on how to use a cane and had gone home, I went outside to practice. I tripped on the cane and that triggered a response from emotions deep inside me. I grabbed the cane by its handle and swung with all my might at the nearest tree. As I hit the tree I yelled, "It isn’t fair! I don’t want to be blind!" I cried as I heard the cane break in two.

After that outburst it was easier for me to accept the things to come. Dana Calef, the friend from my drama team, needed a place to stay for the summer. I invited him to stay at my place for as long as he liked. I don’t think I could have managed those first few months alone. I had to learn to do everything all over again.

I could no longer do the things I had taken for granted for so many years. How does a blind man cook or do his grocery shopping or walk to school? I needed answers to my questions, but I decided to get my answers on my own. I still had too much pride to ask for help.

The first problem to overcome was transportation to and from school. Dana and I both had early morning classes, so I was able to ride to school with him. My highlight of the day was to ride to school on his motorcycle. I loved the cold air blowing over me. It woke me up and prepared me for my studies. He worked in the afternoon, so I was forced to walk home alone. I had walked to and from school when I could see, so I was familiar with the roads. I learned to listen much more closely to traffic. Many people think that when a person becomes blind his hearing improves. I’m not sure I believe that. I think the blind person just pays closer attention to the sounds around him. And the white cane that I had avoided for so long was now a close friend. I learned how to feel the difference between gravel and pavement with just a quick touch of the tip of the cane. My advisor at the Bureau for the Blind began to tease me because I wore out the tips of my cane so quickly. After all, I was walking farther in one day than most college students drove their cars in a week. I was walking 300 miles a months!

Cooking was another problem for me and poor Dana had to put up with a lot of it. Because Dana worked during the day and paid for most of the food, I felt that I should do most of the cooking. I was thankful that Grandma had been the one to teach me how to cook. I don’t think that Grandma had ever owned a cookbook. When I was younger and I would ask her for a recipe, she would laugh and say, "Joe, there is no recipe for that." And she was probably right. Grandma was German, and there was no American equivalent for most of her cooking. I had started grade school before I found out that you could buy a loaf of bread at the corner grocery store.

Grandma had taught me how to bake pies and check bread dough by the feel of the dough in my hands. So that was how I did all of my cooking. By feel. I was still very poor at reading Braille, but I did occasionally check my Braille cookbooks. When your hands are in the middle of your bread dough and you have forgotten what to do next, you have to take your hands out of the dough and wash and dry them before you can check your recipe. And if you have to do it very often you lose a lot of precious time.

Another problem with my cooking was the kinds of foods that I cooked. My parents raised me with the philosophy that a man is made of meat and potatoes. That was about all I knew how to fix. Dana, however, was a health nut and could live on fresh fruit and vegetables. I had never cooked with fresh fruit and vegetables and had no idea what I was doing when I cooked with them. Dana agreed with me.

Dana and I found another difference in our taste for food. I had always had a very limited income so I usually bought the cheapest things I could find. I pinched my pennies at least twice before I spent them. Dana paid no attention to price tags, and many evenings we sounded like a married couple as we argued about finances. After one such argument, Dana decided to be nice to me and do the grocery shopping himself. When it came time for him to buy the vegetables, he knew that I would be happy if he bought the cheapest vegetables he could find, so he bought several cans of vegetables on sale. I laughed as I told him that a blind person can not tell the difference between a can of corn and a can of peas. From then on he bought frozen bags of vegetables, and I never complained about the way he bought groceries.

It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be for me to go grocery shopping my myself. There was a small fast food store two blocks from home, and that is where I was to make my first trial run. Most single people do not buy a large variety of food, so they generally do their shopping the same way every week. It was simply a matter of memorization for me. I could smell the bread, so it was easy to find at least that product. By checking the size of the loaf I knew if it was the sandwich bread I wanted. Later, by memorization, I would discover where my particular brand was. Next I went to the cooler for a gallon of milk. I knew that if I grabbed a carton of milk I could accidentally pick up chocolate milk, so I reached for a plastic jug instead. I knew from memory that bologna would be round and the other lunchmeat would be in oblong-shaped containers, so I had no problem buying bologna. I could not tell the difference in TV dinners by their boxes, but I could tell which bag of vegetables was the mixed vegetables I used for cooking. Most store managers stock the children’s cereal boxes at the eye level of children which means that the other cereals are on the top shelves. I simply felt for the largest quantity of the largest boxes and was pretty well assured that they would be corn flakes. (I was usually right.)

My next stop was the meat cooler where I picked up a small package of hamburger. I was not yet experienced enough to be sure of any of the other meats except chicken.

Satisfied and rather smug, I wheeled my cart to the check out and then, just to give the checkout girl something to think about, I picked up a Reader’s Digest from the counter. I did not know what magazine I was picking up. It really didn’t matter.

I had all of the money in my wallet folded different ways so I knew where the ones, five’s, and tens were. As I picked up my grocery bags, I realized that there had been one thing I had not taken into account when I planned this excursion. How was I going to use my cane if I had to use both arms to carry the grocery bags? Refusing to accept defeat, I thanked God that I only lived two blocks away as I stumbled out the door. By the time I arrived home I had tripped and dropped my bags several times. I had to re-package everything myself. I was thankful that no one saw me. I again thanked God that I had not bought any eggs as I dropped my bags on the living room floor. I had done it! I had proven to myself that I could go grocery shopping alone. I still had a lot to learn about grocery shopping, but I had taken the first step and succeeded. It would have to get easier.

There were many humorous things that happened those first few months that made it easier to not only accept my situation but also to laugh at my situation. I was even able to laugh at myself.

One of the classes I took at CBC that summer was a class in homiletics. I was required to preach three times during the course, and my fellow classmates would critique my sermons. I spent many long hours working on my first sermon, because unlike the other students I was unable to use notes. I was still too slow a Braille reader, and I need