I Shall Come Forth as Gold

Mental Health & Disabilities
Stanley Windels

Apparently it started when I was born, although it could have been even earlier. Among the more distant relatives on my father's side there are incidents of crossed eyes, perhaps even of retinitis pigmentosa, but no total blindness that we are aware of. Before I was born, Mother warned the nurse that her children came quickly. There was no doctor at the immediate scene at the time. When I did start to come, the nurse apparently got excited, dumped ether on Mother and ran for the doctor. Mother passed out and did not experience my birth. When the doctor brought me back to Mother, he said something like, "This is the most stubborn baby I have ever seen. I can't get him to stop crying." It could well be that no one was around at my birth and that I could somehow have fallen or been twisted.

It was not until several months later that Mother noticed that I would not reach for my bottle, nor would I respond if someone crept quietly into the room. She thought my eyes were just weak, because I would respond to a coal oil lamp when she brought it in. I was eight months old when she took me to an eye specialist who told them the sad news that I was blind. He said the optic nerve was white (indicating that it was dead)! He could, however, give no explanation. I don't know how Dad responded.

At eleven months, my parents took me to a local chiropractor who said there were definite signs of injury to the neck and shoulders. He said he was not familiar enough with that area to work on it. Later they heard of a Christian chiropractor/masseur, Doug Fee, now deceased, at Whitefox, Saskatchewan, who had helped my cousin avoid colour blindness, and then later avert what could have been total blindness. God helped him discover through his prayer that she had, in fact, broken her nose and that blood had clotted there, putting pressure on nerves which affected the eyes. Mr. Fee, or "Doctor Fee" as Mother called him although he probably never had a degree, was able to massage the clotted blood away and her sight was restored. My parents took me to him and he worked on my head, neck and shoulders. I then went back to the same eye doctor. He said, "I can't understand it. The optic nerve is now pink (that is, normal and alive) but he still can't see." Much later, when I was in university, because I still didn't know the exact nature of the problem, I went to an eye specialist, and was diagnosed as having retinitis pigmentosa, which he said was a genetic disease. It is thus possible that both genetics and injury played a part in my current condition. I tell people there are only two things I can't see -- shape and colour (I can see light, if it is bright enough). When I was five years old, Mr. Fee straightened out my eyes which had become crossed. Now they only cross if I am very tired. All this got my father interested in massage, and he, my sister, and her second daughter are all now massage therapists.

My childhood was, for the most part, happy. I was somewhat spoiled, but was generally disciplined just as my siblings were. I will probably never forget one spanking Mom gave me, when I was clearly abusing my sister and my cousin, because they would not play with me the way I wanted. I know the Bible says we have to be careful about saying we have learned our lesson, but hopefully I learned not to abuse others. Certainly I know Mom did the right thing.

Mother ran the community post office until I had nearly finished high school. The neighbours would often give me candy, and people enjoyed seeing if I could distinguish between different coins and often let me keep them because I was almost always right. Like most children, I learned the value of money quickly, and yet, as I think back, I don't think I ever had more than my siblings (I was the youngest child until I was four and a half years old). I'm sure Mother made me share. When I went to school, and got a weekly allowance, I was encouraged by a lady in Ontario who became know as my "Ontario Mother" to save my money (I am sure she added considerably to the supply), and buy presents for the members of my family before I went home. The shopping trip with its motorized pony rides, treats and supper were well worth the chips and candy I may have missed. To this day God has given me a good set of teeth.

Dad may have been over-protective, but he did instill in me a respect for safety, especially when around farm machinery. He also freely answered my many questions about how machinery worked. Before I went to school, I knew the basics of what made a tractor start and how it ran.

For the most part, my parents gave me the run of the yard. Eventually I even learned to ride a two-wheel bike. When I was younger, I had a little tricycle. One day while trying to escape the noise of the gas-powered washing machine, I wandered farther away than usual and ended up in a nest of yellow jackets. I had a T-shirt on and they came up under it and stung me all over. Running as fast as my five-year-old legs could go, I somehow made it to the house. Mother counted 21 bites. My lip was so swollen that I could not eat. I had to have eggnog for lunch. Does God work all things out for good? Eggnog was a real treat. By the end of the afternoon, plastered with baking soda and water, the swellings had gone down. The pain soon disappeared and I was back playing again.

Mother often prayed with us as children before bed. The prayer went like this:

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon this little child.
Make me loving as Thou art,
Come and live within my heart.

Thus, we who prayed this prayer had asked Jesus into our heart many times, but did we really know what that meant?

The time for school drew near. I had learned the alphabet when I was three from my older brother, now a lawyer. I could sing before I could talk. Mother used to sing to me when she changed my diaper. That was the only way she could get me to settle down. Yes, there was talent there, but it was the kind of talent that had to be directed and disciplined. Today, I refer to myself as an intellectual musician, one who relies more on his intellect than his innate musical ability and technical skill for his musicianship.

In those days, options for education were few. Living on a farm with country, eight-grade, one-room schools, when the phrase "itinerant teacher" was probably not yet coined, I had to go either to The Ontario School for the Blind, now the W. Ross Macdonald School, or the Jericho Hill School in Vancouver. Since the Brantford school was the more highly recommended and the supports were more evident, and since the difference in travel distance was insignificant, my parents wisely chose Brantford. It must have been a hard time for them. They tried their best to prepare me for being away from them, by sending me in for tests alone to Saskatoon on the train when I was only five.

I was just past six and a half when we took the long trip down to Regina to catch the train down East. I had met our guide who tried to take good care of me, but that afternoon when my parents left, I had a sadness come over me that I had never felt before. It was like a depression. I wonder that I did not cry right away; perhaps I was too sad to cry. We went for supper and to add insult to injury, they asked me what I wanted to eat. I had so seldom been in a restaurant before that I did not know what half the things on the menu were. I remember specifically that I did not really know what fish and chips were. In any case, I was too sad to eat. I cried myself to sleep and cried again in the morning when the first thing I heard was that lonesome train whistle they always talk about in country songs. It didn't take long, however, for me to get involved in the excitement of the trip and of meeting new friends. After that I was fine except for the first night at school when I couldn't find the washroom in the middle of the night.

During grades one and two we had Sunday School before church on Sundays, but in grade three, in the senior school, that was cancelled, and so I, being lonely for it, decided to start one myself. I experienced the most persecution of my life during those years, being ridiculed by some of the older students even to the point of being beaten on the hands with a hairbrush. One time some of the boys tried to attract one of the members of the Sunday School to do other things. He came back and I experienced somewhat the father's feelings of the prodigal son. Just for interest, that boy/man is now a Christian (I can't take credit for that), and has made a gospel music recording.

Still, when anyone asked if I had asked Jesus into my heart, I was uncertain, probably because I could not point back to a specific time. That all changed when the Brunks brothers had meetings in the Rosthern area in the summer of 1964. I heard hell-fire and brimstone preached like I have never heard it before or since. That, along with the singing—"and oh what a weeping and wailing when the lost were told of their fate. They cried for the rocks and the mountains. They prayed, but their prayer was too late"—scared me into heaven. They say being scared in this way is the worst way to get saved, but I would rather get saved that way than not at all.

I went forward with Mother. When I finally decided that Jesus was indeed alive and had come into my heart, I had a new joy, and God deposited Romans 1:16 into my spirit, "For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation to everyone that believes; to the Jew first and also to the Greek." I believe now that I had been a Christian before 1964, and that to have a specific time to point back to is not necessary as long as you can say in all honesty that Jesus is in truth your rescuer and ruler and is alive in you, but having a specific turning point can be a useful tool against Satan when he attacks your mind. Because Satan has tried to make me doubt my salvation, and because I did have certain doubts while in the process of being born again, I have often said that were I not already saved, I would certainly make today the day I made that decision.

Doubt and fear, not blindness, have been two of my worst problems. Although they are now being mastered, they may have caused a physical fatigue that still lingers and impedes progress. I do think, however, and understand from others, that it takes more effort, even physically, to deal with a disability, since one's other members have to work that much harder to compensate. Stress levels, too, for the disabled, are generally conceded to be higher, because circumstances, both small and great, are less certain. In my adult life, another genetic disability, namely epilepsy, overtook me. Wrong medication made it worse and in general that too probably helped to slow me down somewhat. God has practically healed me of the epilepsy, for which I am thankful. I say "practically," because I am still on limited medication and sometimes I still feel a slight twinge. As my doctor says, "It is just gas trying to get out of your ears." I have not, to my knowledge, had a major seizure in over five years. Praise God!

I think my greatest enemy, and this is often the case, is also my greatest talent—my intellect. I was so smart that I was stupid. That is somewhat like being so open- minded that your mind is closed (another common problem). I sometimes thought I knew better than God, and God has not let me off lightly on this matter, a fact which I appreciate. Things could have been quite different if I had just "leaned not on my own understanding" and said, "As for God, his way is perfect," though how different I do not know.

In some ways I guess I was a typical teenager, though in many other ways atypical in that I was affable and well-behaved. I was perhaps scared into obedience. Others could do things and get away with it. I always seemed to get caught. I think there were even times when I was falsely accused and punished for things I did not do. Whenever I think of it, I choose to forgive those involved, that is, to release them from judgment.

Although my parents were not involved in these situations, I did not trust them for advice and sometimes, in fact, didn't realize that the decisions I was making were detrimental. We are not talking about serious matters here, but it is "the little foxes that spoil the vineyard." I remember only one man ever encouraging me by saying something like, "If you ever need help or are having trouble, don't hesitate to ask me." Unfortunately, he was in Ontario and after I left that scene he was no longer readily accessible. I would thus encourage parents to make themselves available to their children often, and even to probe into their thought patterns from an early age. The Bible says, "It is an honour of kings to search out a matter" (Proverbs 25:1). I believe God, in His mercy, has kept me from hurting, or being a hindrance to, many people. I tell people my worst problem is that I tend to be too religious (Ecclesiastes 7:16). My greatest asset is that I am a Christian. I still believe, as our motto said when we left Rosthern Junior College, the best is yet to come.

I have a degree from the University of Saskatchewan in Music Education, and taught Voice, Piano and Organ for nine years. Then I took a course in Computer Office Management with Career Development Institute in Saskatoon and worked for my oldest brother, a lawyer, as his secretary for almost seven years. My family, particularly my oldest brother, has been instrumental in helping me get employment. Our family has always been, and still remains, very close both in proximity and love.

My blindness, coupled with some shyness, or perhaps lack of creativity, I find is a hindrance to my ability to function socially, particularly in a big church situation in which I now find myself. I cannot, for example, wave at someone, motion to them or catch their eye to get their attention. I don't even know, without asking, who may be at church and who isn't. Thus, my circle of friends is small, and my social interaction limited mostly to my immediate space. For single disabled people like me, smaller churches probably provide a more intimate and hopefully friendlier setting and a better chance to get to know people. I feel, however, that God has called me where I am, and I intend to stay there until I hear otherwise. After all, fellowship, although very important, is only one of the essentials of church life. Hopefully, I am learning to build character, rather than just use talent.

I have been tremendously blessed, and steadied by the teaching of Saskatoon Christian Centre, the church I now attend. All churches need to grow in certain areas, and ours is no exception, but I believe we are moving forward. Certainly, the teaching, which God is now making available in many churches, of who we as Christians are in Christ Jesus, has been tremendously helpful. I know that if I continue to trust God in and for everything, relying on His strength rather than groveling in my weakness, "He knoweth the way that I take; when He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold."

 

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