One of the sections of the notebook has a document the leaders encouraged us to share, about how to properly work with those who are not sighted, either legally blind or totally blind. Here are the suggestions:

Treat me as you would anyone else. I do the same things as you do, but sometimes use different techniques.

Speak in a normal tone of voice. Blindness doesn’t equal hearing loss.

Talk directly to me, not to my companion. Loss of sight is not loss of intellect.

When entering a room, identify yourself; when exiting, be sure to mention that you are leaving. (This is one I need to work on. In the meantime, I get some exercise by walking back into the room to hear what was being said to me after I walked out.)

Address me by name so I will know you are speaking to me.

If you leave me alone in an unfamiliar area, consider offering me an orientation clue, such as “The door is to your left.”

Don’t worry about using common, everyday words and phrases like “look,” “see,” or “watching TV” around me.

If I look as though I may need assistance, ask. I’ll tell you if I do. If I am about to encounter a dangerous situation, voice you concerns in a calm and clear manner.

Pulling or steering me is awkward and confusing–it’s really not helpful. Avoid grabbing my arm. (I actually saw an assistant in an eye care clinic try this a couple of times, and the patient quickly drew her arm away from the assistant’s hand. Hopefully it was just a new worker who was retrained on how to handle the situation correctly.)

If I have a service animal, please don’t touch my dog’s harness. (Many people with low vision don’t have a guide dog; don’t assume that just because there is not a dog, that I can see well.)

Ask, “Would you like me to guide you?” Offering your elbow is an effective and dignified way to lead someone who is blind. Do not be afraid to identify yourself as an inexperienced sighted guide and ask for tips on how to improve. Using audible cues, such as a tap or pat on an object (such as a chair or doorway), is a good technique for showing me their location. Commenting “Here’s the chair,” while tapping on it helps me to quickly locate it.

Be considerate. If you notice a spot or stain on my clothing, tell me privately (just as you would like to be told).

Be sure to give useful directions. Phrases such as “across the street” and “left at the next corner” are more helpful than vague descriptions like “over there.”

In a restaurant, give clear directions to available seats. Your offer to read the menu aloud may be appreciated, but you shouldn’t assume I would not want to order my own food. Offer to let me know what is on the table: ketchup bottle, water glasses, salt and pepper shakers, etc. You can describe the location of items by using clock positions: “Your coffee is at 3 o’clock”; “The sugar is at 1 o’clock.”

Leave doors all the way open or all the way closed–half-open doors or cupboards are dangerous. And more often than not, moving chairs or other objects around–especially in a familiar environment–winds up being more confusing for me than helpful.

Be sensitive when questioning me about my blindness. This is personal information and boundaries should be respected.

Do you have any suggestions to add?

Statistics state that 1 in 8 or 1 in 6 couples have some trouble conceiving a baby. I was talking with a young lady of about 30 recently, and she stated that she didn’t realize there were so many couples affected until she got to the age where her friends were wanting to start families and some of them struggled. I wasn’t aware either when I was in my early 20s, but as time wore on, I learned more.

After the first few years of marriage, my husband and I talked of, and didn’t try to prevent, having children. When it didn’t happen right away, we took it as an opportunity to pursue other goals. Realizing we weren’t getting any younger, and it wasn’t happening naturally, we decided to pursue getting some assistance. I don’t remember how many tests were performed on me, and I’d just as soon not remember all of the pain that I went through during them. We even went through a few rounds of Artificial Insemination. None of them worked. Since most insurance does not cover such issues, we didn’t feel right about pursuing that path, putting ourselves into deeper debt to try for a child.

I don’t know why family members didn’t ask us about having kids. When we had been married about 4 years, someone in the family asked if we were considering starting our family. Each of my siblings had their kids when they had been married about 5 years, and when it was pointed out we were nearing that time (and starting to try towards it actually), there were a few giggles, like an announcement might be coming in the not-too-distant future. After a while, it wasn’t brought up again.  Maybe they don’t want to bring up a sensitive subject? I can appreciate that, but it would also be nice to be able to say what I’m feeling.

There is debate whether to call couples like us child-free or childless. “Child-free” sounds more positive, while “childless” feels like something is lacking. Some people put “by choice” after their selection. How much of it is by choice? I thought I would be a mother, because that is what ladies did. For me, I don’t know that it was ever the strong desire that some of my friends have. Or maybe that dream has been so far pushed down that I can’t remember how deep of a wish it was. Is there still a possibility for us? I don’t see it at this point, and we’re beginning to push the upper limit of time. So is the lack of a decision to follow one path our choice? If things happened “normally” we would have a couple of kids by now, and probably in their teens.

Here’s a little friendly advice.

1. If you are having a challenging time with your kids, don’t complain of it to your childless friends. Some would love to be able to have your headaches for a while.
2. If you hear of someone having had a miscarriage, DON’T say “At least you know you can get pregnant.” You don’t know if that might be her first, fifth, or twelfth miscarriage.

I have had the opportunity to walk alongside many ladies on this same journey. Some have gone on to have successful pregnancies and births. Others have adopted from foster care or other countries. And some are waiting (trying to be patient) to adopt infants, or have adopted them. And there are others like me still out there.

There are two times in life when a woman can feel extra-special: bride-to-be and mom-to-be. I feel like I’ve missed out on a time of celebration. There’s not a party to be thrown for the infertile woman.

I know of one writer who calls infertility a disability, and to me that sounds reasonable. After all, a disability is not being able to do something on one’s own that most other people can. For this reason, I will always feel a little bit defective.

I saw some postings on Facebook trying to raise awareness for infertility. It is reworked a bit here to close out my thoughts.

Infertility is a heart-wrenching, faith-questioning, relationship-testing, life-altering experience. Whether a friend, a family member, a colleague, or yourself has fought through this difficult fate that MILLIONS of women are fighting day in and day out, please be aware that many have walked to hell and back for the chance to be a MOM.

Before my husband and I moved in with Mom to help her out, she had some house cleaners come every couple of weeks to handle the more strenuous tasks. She kept them employed, and allowed me the freedom to avoid most cleaning chores. Like I said, I’m spoiled. The time has come where that situation is not working out any more.

Now it’s time to dig out the cleaning tools we brought with us (if I can find them in the garage), stock up on cleaning products again, and plan time into the schedule to make it all happen.

Having too much stuff to clean gives added incentive to get rid of clutter. With this peek into the consistent work ahead, it’s a great reminder to spread my eBay wings again. Granted, we aren’t anywhere near the households shown on Clean House or Hoarders television shows. There are many proponents of reducing personal collections of “stuff.” If you are wanting to reduce your amounts of stuff, you can check out The Organizer Lady® or FlyLady. They offer different approaches to get to the same goal — a clean home.

While I can’t honestly say I’m looking forward to the work, I can face the (renewed) challenge of keeping our home clean and beautiful with a positive attitude. Adding a few tasks each day can help me make better use of my time as well. I can load some inspiring speakers and upbeat music into my iPod, and get more exercise as I go. I’m hopeful this works as well in real life as it does in my head.

I’m baby-stepping to a beautiful home.

You don’t know which way the wind blows; So how can you plan tomorrow? (Second Chapter of Acts)

Now I am sitting here on a quiet New Year’s Eve, as we are closing in on the end of the year. The lights are lit on the Christmas tree one last time. We don’t usually leave it up this long, but Mom suggested watching the lights this evening, so we left it up a few more days than we usually do.

While I don’t actually make resolutions to keep (and break), I do appreciate the time to reflect and refocus on what is important. Even thought I can’t plan everything about tomorrow (much less the entire year), I can write out some ideas to help me clarify where to spend my time. Tomorrow itself will be somewhat busy with nearby family members over for the traditional meal of hog jaw and black-eyed peas (with pickles to choke them down with), but I hope to find a few moments of quiet to think.

(Brief plug here. My company will be running a webinar series, where we help people learn an approach to help them get the most important things done. More details here. I’m looking forward to moderating the upcoming series again. My plan is to participate in the process this time.)

As this year fades away and the new one rolls in, I wish you all the happiest of New Years!

(To be honest, I was inspired to finally write and post these thoughts that have been bubbling in my brain by a post on my sister-in-law’s blog.)

I come from a family of quieter people. We’re okay to sit in a room together and not say a word for a few minutes; one of us will eventually come up with something to say. The story goes that when my Mom’s father was trying to learn a little something about my Dad’s family, he was told, “If you ask [my uncle], he’ll lie to you; if you ask [my Dad], he won’t tell you anything.”

I married into a larger family, where everyone seems to have something to share. I remember being at one family gathering, and being fascinated by the religious/philosophical/cultural conversation going on around me. I was happy to be the “house mom” of the moment, and just listen. Several of these family members also write, and post long blogs about various topics. There is a part of me that is a little intimidated.

I recently connected with an individual who posts something every day, and it’s usually rather short. I can do that! (Well, not the every day part, but the short aspect.)

Being of few words can be a gift. Not everyone can say what they want in a few words.

This article has been around for quite some time.  I have never seen it attributed to anyone in particular.  (If I ever find out, I will give credit where it is due.)

PLEASE HEAR WHAT I’M NOT SAYING

Don’t be fooled by me.  Don’t be fooled by the face I wear.  For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks, masks that I’m afraid to take off, and none of them are me.

Pretending is an art that is second nature with me, but don’t be fooled.  Please.  Don’t be fooled.

I give you the impression that I’m secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness is my game; that the waters are calm and that I’m in command and I need no one.  But don’t believe me; please don’t believe me.

My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask, my ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.  Beneath it lies no smugness, no coolness, no complacence.  Beneath dwells the real me, in confusion, in fear, in loneliness.  But I hide this; I don’t want anybody to know it.  I panic at the thought of my weakness being exposed.  That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated façade to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.  But such a glance is precisely my salvation.  My only salvation.  And I know it.  It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.

But I don’t tell you this.  I don’t dare.  I’m afraid to.

I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by love and acceptance.  I’m afraid that you will think less of me, that you’ll laugh, and your laugh will kill me.  I’m afraid that deep down inside I’m nothing, that I’m just no good, and that you’ll see the real me and reject me.

So I play my games, my desperate, pretending games, with a façade of assurance on the outside and a trembling child within.  And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering but empty parade of masks.  And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter with you in the suave tones of surface talk.  I tell you everything that’s really nothing, nothing of what’s crying within me.  So when I’m going through my routine, don’t be fooled by what I’m saying.  Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m NOT saying; what I’d like to be able to say; what, for survival, I need to say but I can’t say.  I dislike the hiding.  Honestly I do.  I dislike the superficial phony games I’m playing.

I’d really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me.  You have to help me by holding out your hand, even when that’s the last thing I seem to want or need.  Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings.  Very small wings.  Very feeble wings.  But wings.  With your sensitivity and empathy and your power of understanding, I can make it.  You can breathe life into me.  It will not be easy for you.  A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.  But love is stronger than strong walls, and therein lies my hope.  Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands, for a child is very sensitive, and I AM a child.

Who am I, you may wonder?

I am someone you know very well.  For I am every man, every woman, every child… every human you will ever meet.

Anonymous

I don’t agree with the sentiment of a knowing glance being my salvation, “my only salvation.”  True salvation is different and real.  But to interpret the author’s words as being a first step to friendship, to hope, is an idea I can generally agree with.

So, am I posting this on a day when I’m okay so I can be an encouragement to others? Or am I down and looking for a friend? I’m not sure of the answer myself.

I do remember, Love Wins!

]]> http://julieholzmann.wordpress.com/2009/09/17/do-you-know-me/feed/ 1 julieholzmann http://julieholzmann.wordpress.com/2009/06/18/letting-it-out/ http://julieholzmann.wordpress.com/2009/06/18/letting-it-out/#comments Thu, 18 Jun 2009 19:39:49 +0000 julieholzmann http://julieholzmann.wordpress.com/?p=40 ]]> Sometimes I have a hard time expressing myself in the right way(s).  This comes out differently in various situations:

• Not keeping my frustration in check when calling up customer service, especially with technical/computer issues.  (I’m sure some have wanted to tell me to “shut up and reboot” – or just “shut up.”)
• Not gracefully accepting help when playing games on my computer. (Ooh – put the black 7 on the red 8.)
• Not responding truthfully when someone asks “How are you doing?”

One way I try to handle this challenge is to think through the potential conversation in advance, so that I can choose words that convey what I mean, without using trigger words that set people off (“You always/never,” “Why don’t you,” etc.).  My problem is, I often don’t get the conversation out of my head.  I try out alternatives to find the best words.  When nothing seems to be quite right, I move on to a different task.  Rather than address the situation, I just let it fizzle out inside of me.  Maybe this is how I am now “stuffing” my feelings, although I thought I was past that.

I want to be real, to be authentic.  I want to be able to share my thoughts and feelings with the people in my life.  Please allow me a little time to put my thoughts into words, and grant me a little grace as I try to communicate them.

I received the printed copies I requested, and I was still nervous about looking at the printed text.  I so wanted to see a book without any typos or errors.  Alas, it was not to be.  While few, there are some mistakes in the book.  I felt somewhat discouraged, feeling like my reputation as a proofreader was tarnished.

It is hard to find a book anywhere that does not contain at least one printing error.  (I even found one in my Bible once, although it was nothing that changed the meaning of the words.)  I am still learning how to let go of my perfectionistic tendencies.  No person, no book is perfect.  And that’s okay.

Life can be like a book.  Our stories are told, and not one of them is perfect.  It is good to strive for excellence, but realize that perfection is impossible.  Our flaws make us unique and human.  Thinking it over, I’d rather be this way than stiff and fake.

If you would like to see the updated and revised edition of The On-Purpose Person, click here.

This cross-country move has brought me back home (quite literally, moving in with Mom to help her out a bit).  Over the past 11+ years, I have grown a great deal.  Many experiences gave many opportunities for learning.  This was brought home to me in an interesting way.

I was visiting a friend a few days ago, and noticed some photos she had posted on her refrigerator.  I recognized her and two other friends in the photo, but couldn’t quite figure out the fourth person.  I knew she looked familiar.  After staring at the photo for a moment, I started to recognize myself.  It was really weird that I didn’t instantly realize it was a picture of me.  The picture was 10 years old.  Yes, my hairstyle had changed a bit, but nothing drastic.  It was something about the face.  There was a slight emptiness or hollowness about it.  There was a smile at my mouth, but not so much in my eyes.

Since that photo was taken, I have gone through some counseling and recovered from depression.  There is now more light in my eyes.  (Not to sound conceited, but I believe I look better now – ten years later – than I did then.)  I am so thankful for making the effort to get better.  I now have more confidence and purpose in my life.

Earlier in the same Gospel, Jesus is asked what the Greatest Commandment is. 

Jesus replied: ”‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”  (Matthew 22:37-39)

First, we are to love God with everything we’ve got, every part of ourselves.  Then as we love God and know that He loves us, we can share that love with our neighbors - any human being with whom we come into contact.  If we don’t love people first, they won’t care to hear that God loves them.  A common saying is “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.”  To paraphrase that, “People won’t listen about God’s love for them if they think you don’t care about them, too.”

This is one thing that excites me about C3.  There are so many people sharing their lives with others, and inviting them to visit.  It’s about relationships – not religion.  After all, Love Wins.