Orange glow. Family and Friendship.

 This morning started with a bright, clear white — soft, glassy, and calm. As the minutes passed, it gradually shifted into a gentle light yellow hue. Then, during our coffee and music time with my stepdad, the orange began to appear, light at first, and then burning bright, filling the room and my spirit with warmth. This shining orange has stayed with me all morning and into the afternoon, carrying me along with its steady, comforting glow.

It’s funny how these colors seem to follow me — all this week it has been orange, except for Monday when the day was entirely purple-hot pink. I don’t know exactly why this happens, especially since I have no eyes, but it feels like my spirit is painting the days for me, reminding me to notice the beauty and joy around me.

Even more special today has been connecting with friends and family. I received emails from my best friend, Jenna Hildebrand, who asked to be added to my grandma’s Bible and prayer phone list. It warms my heart to see her wanting to be part of that circle of love, prayers, and support. My grandma shares this list with our whole family and all her friends, and now Jenna will be included in those moments of connection and faith.

Moments like these — the steady glow of orange, coffee, music, laughter, and reaching out to friends and family — remind me that warmth, love, and light are always present, even in the ordinary rhythms of the day. Life may be full of small surprises and colors we don’t always understand, but it’s the people, the laughter, and the shared connections that make it truly beautiful.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What I'm still seeing With Out eyes, part 2.

Chapter 4 Last night, the reddish-orange light was so bright, so intense, it filled everything. I couldn’t even tell when I’d closed my eyes—the usual dark reddish-brown I expect was nowhere to be found. It was just light, bold and burning, like a fire behind my eyelids. By morning, the world inside me had settled. The brightness faded back into its usual heavy grey, with slow-floating yellow shapes drifting through the fog. And now, as I sit quietly, the darker reddish-brown edges have returned—faint but grounding—like the calm after a storm. Right now, I see yellow floaters swimming lazily through that grey space, with a soft peach tint in the background. It’s quiet, gentle, almost dreamlike. People ask me, “What are you up to?” It’s a casual question. A way to check in. And I answer casually too—“Oh, just chilling. Writing on my disability page. Sipping some coffee.” It’s true, but it’s not the full truth. What I don’t say is that while I sip that coffee, I’m watching y...
Read more

A brighter Pinkish Purple.

Image
It’s now a brighter pinkish purple—so bright, I can almost feel a bit of heat coming from it, like sunshine is beaming straight into my eyes. But there is no sunshine. There’s no light in the room. There’s no glow in the sky. There are no eyes on my face. That’s right—I’m totally blind. And yet, here it is. A radiant, glowing pinkish purple filling my inner world. It’s not just a color—it’s an experience. It shines from inside, with a reddish hue gently edging its way back into view. It’s soft, yet strong. Beautiful, and somehow alive. No one else can see this color—but to me, it’s so real I can feel it. Some people say blindness is darkness. But today, it’s pinkish purple. And it’s glorious.   Brilliant hot pink, Morning Coffee, and Yellow floaters. It’s late in the day, but I’ve been up on and off—lingering in bed, eating a late breakfast, and listening to The Right Time by Danielle Steel. And all the while, one thing has stayed with me: a brilliant, almost overwhelming...
Read more

Why Should I Have To Serve in Jewry Duty When I Can't See?

Lately, I’ve been getting so frustrated. The court keeps sending me letters, pushing me to serve jury duty—even though I’ve already submitted a doctor’s letter saying that I am totally blind, hearing impaired, and on disability. My doctor even wrote that I’m unable to participate due to my medical condition. But apparently, that’s not enough. She didn’t go into every single detail. Why? Because she legally can’t—HIPAA protects my private medical information. And now the court is rejecting her letter because it doesn’t spell out every little thing, like I owe them some full-body explanation to be believed. Let me be clear: I am totally blind. I have no eyes. I also live with hearing loss. I rely on sound cues, memory, my hands, my other senses—every day. And it’s exhausting sometimes, even in familiar places. Now imagine being called into a courtroom, where everything depends on seeing: Who stood up to speak? What kind of gesture did they just make? Who are they pointing ...
Read more