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Today is our 43rd wedding anniversary, and unfortunately I have no good quality picture to share of our wedding day. The photographer’s equipment messed up, and the lighting was so poor in all the photos, I have very few pictures. Our wedding was simple, an afternoon wedding in the then common style of a short wedding and a simple reception, not a meal followed by music and dancing as it is now. But close friends and family attended to celebrate, however modestly, our special day, and here we are, 43 years later, still together and closer than we were when we began our journey.

So what is the secret to a good marriage? Before I tell you what it is, let me first share what it is not, although other long-time married couples might disagree with me.

It is not what we see in most movies.

It is not what people read in most romance novels.

It is not about each partner being the perfect mate.

There are elements of all of those things in a good marriage, but the secret, in my opinion, is commitment. By both parties.

Even the best marriages have their rocky moments. Your feelings for each other, especially in the early years, may wane at times or even become overshadowed by the demands of everyday life: jobs, children, obligations, extended family. You may feel you are doing all the giving in the relationship and your mate is doing all the taking. But if you’re both committed to the relationship, you can work through those issues and be stronger as a couple as a result.

I’m not an expert nor a counselor, and I believe each couple has its own dynamic. They have to figure out what works for them. My husband’s parents, for example, were (in my opinion) too dependent on each other, but that was their dynamic and was what made them happy. My parents were married 67 years by the time my father passed away, and to be honest, my mom was the nagging sort of wife. My dad handled it, always loved her (as she did him, in her own way), and while I would never hold them up as an example of how marriage ought to be, I have no doubt they loved each other and were committed to their relationship.

Barry and I have our own dynamic, and it is what works best for us. I avoid being like my mother. He respects my need for independence and doesn’t feel I have violated some sort of marriage code if I go spend a weekend with my friends as I’ve done with co-workers and former classmates. He doesn’t mind if I don’t sit in the living room with him while he watches his many sports programs. He lets me be me, and I let him be him.

It’s what works for us.

I realize there are some situations such as infidelity, abuse, an overbearing or verbally cruel spouse, and substance abuse that can and do destroy a marriage. I’m not trying to say that one person’s commitment can overcome the lack of commitment by the other partner. My heart goes out to those who have tried to keep their marriage healthy and strong but their partner was unwilling to be a part of that effort.

It takes commitment by both.

Sorry if I got preachy. It was not my intent. Our marriage is not perfect (no one’s is), but it has gotten better with each year. I am fortunate to have a husband who has been my cheerleader, my helper, my best friend in life.

I wish everyone could know that blessing.

Two things I’ve loved to do since I was a child…well, actually three. Read, write stories, and draw. I sketched constantly and continued to do so for years. When I became legally blind (I have no central vision in either eye and see 20/400 with my peripheral), I stopped sketching. I didn’t think I could do it.

But as I have adapted to my new normal, I’ve learned to use aids to help me do what I love, so I began to sketch using nothing more than my peripheral vision and a very bright light shining directly on the sketch pad. The result was this sketch of a horse.

I’m just a hobby artist. I will never make money from my drawings or paintings, so that is not the purpose of this post. The purpose is to encourage you, my readers, to find ways to do what you love. Sure, there may be some things you can’t do no matter what your mindset, but you may be able to do more than you believe you can.

This morning I listened to a podcast by Max Lucado called “Encouraging Word.” He spoke about looking back at your childhood to discover what your passions are now. What your strengths were then may be your strengths now. We are unique individuals who bring multiple gifts and talents to the world if we choose to use them.

What interest, talent, or gift are you ignoring? Do you feel as though something is missing from your life because you are not using it?

I allowed a defeatist attitude overtake me. That attitude is gone, and I’m now focused on doing what I can while I can. Life is too short to waste time and talent. If you’re doing that, stop.

Life has taught me some difficult lessons, and it’s still teaching me. I’m sharing what I’ve learned in the hopes it will help you in case you are doing what I did, giving up.

Blessings to all of you!

As a hobby artist, meaning very amateur, who has always loved to sketch, color, and paint, my vision loss makes doing those things more challenging than in the past, but by using a wearable headset (IrisVision Live) and using extra lighting, I am able to indulge in my passion. I do get frustrated at times because I can’t do things as well as in the past and I don’t always like the finished product, but most of the time it’s enjoyable.

I did this acrylic painting based upon a photo sent to me by a friend while she was in Florida.

Living with vision loss is not the hopeless condition people might have believed it to be before the age of technology. We VIP’s (visually impaired persons) have a wealth of options to help us live full lives in which we can help others, indulge in our passions, and interact with others like we’ve always done. As I type this, I’m wearing IrisVision Live and using a setting that is magnifying the screen seven times larger plus typing in the XL font. I suspect I could speak these words as I do on my phone if I wanted, but I’m an experienced typist, so typing is no problem.

People with hearing loss who create music (think Beethoven), with loss of physical abilities who play basketball in wheelchairs, people completely blind who skateboard, run, swim, even paint…the human spirit is amazing!

This photo was taken last August at a relative’s wedding. On March 14, my husband and I will celebrate our fortieth anniversary, and I’m remembering some things about that.

Our wedding was simple, much simpler than the weddings of today. It was overshadowed by the fact my husband’s grandfather was in a hospital with terminal cancer. We suggested changing the date when we learned about his illness, but he didn’t want us to do that. He died two days after the wedding, almost as though he was holding on until we were married. My husband’s poor grandmother, mother, and other family members had to go through what should have been a joyous occasion while their hearts were heavy with the impending loss of Pawpaw. My husband, too, for that matter. Looking back, I wish we had re-scheduled, but who knew?

Our photographer didn’t show up when she was supposed to. I called her, and she said she was having trouble with her equipment. She rushed over from a nearby town, but none of our indoor pictures turned out well, every one of them dark, We ended up with proofs instead of photos, with the exception of two or three pictures. No video to commemorate and relive the event, but back then the video concept was fairly new.

But none of that matters now. The memories of that day have faded with time, but that’s really not important. What’s important is the life we’ve built together.

I have never been the type to be public about the people I love. For whatever reason, it makes me uncomfortable and makes me feel as though I’m sharing something that shouldn’t be shared. But as I contemplate our anniversary and the events of the past several years, I decided it was time to honor, in a public way, my husband. It may embarrass him, but I think he deserves to be recognized. So this blog is my present to him, my way of showing him how much I appreciate his love and support through the good and the bad.

Perhaps the best way to explain what I am talking about is to list some of his qualities that make him my best friend as well as my partner in life.

1. He’s a great communicator. Many men aren’t, but we can always talk things out. We have had very few “fights” over the years.
2. He treats me like a queen. He compliments me even when I don’t deserve to be complimented and praises me for my feeble attempt at writing, art, and other activities. However, a disclaimer: he was very happy when I finally threw away my pink, fuzzy robe. However, he has never (as one of my boyfriends did) tell me I was getting fat!
3. He is considerate of my interests. Another disclaimer: that wasn’t the case early in our marriage on either side, but we have evolved!
4. He has supported me in every career change I’ve made and didn’t consider himself to be “babysitting” when I had to attend night classes while working on my master’s degree.
5. When I was working, he helped around the house. Every Saturday, we double-teamed it. The only thing he didn’t do was cook, but he is now learning to do that. Once again, he’s evolving. So am I.
6. He has had to deal with high-maintenance in-laws. Health issues and other things. I won’t elaborate, but let’s just say that we’ve had some challenging times in that arena, but we continue to work through them.
7. He is super-empathetic to my handicap. He knows me and how it grieves me to be unable to do so many things. He understands how it breaks my heart to lose my independence. He lets me cry it out and talk it out whenever I want. I’m getting better, but it was tough during the initial adjustment period.

There are other reasons, but these are the ones that stand out to me the most. He is not a perfect person, just as I am not a perfect person, but we accept each other’s imperfections and continue to support and care for each other. I am not trying to paint a rosy picture that looks like a Hallmark movie. What I am trying to show is how we have grown in the forty years we’ve been married and how much I appreciate him for the man that he is.

Not everyone is as fortunate as I am, but maybe I should point out that it has not always been smooth sailing. The early years were bumpy at times, but as the years have marched on, we have created our own dynamic, our own rhythm of life. And it works for us.

For those of you who are blessed with a spouse who “completes you,” congratulations. For those of you who have known the heartbreak of divorce or loss of a loving spouse due to death, please know I am not trying to make you feel bad.

I am simply wanting to give my husband a gift for our anniversary. A gift of public acknowledgement and praise for the husband and father he is and the grandfather he is about to be.

I just hope this doesn’t embarrass him…oh, well, this blog will end this summer anyway!

I haven’t blogged in a while, and I am blogging now to let you know I’m going to stop. As a matter of fact, I’ve already notified WordPress not to renew my subscription when it comes due this summer. That means, if I have interviewed you and you want to keep a copy, you may want to print it before the subscription expires as I’m sure it will say at that point that the site is no longer available.

Why am I no longer going to blog? There are several reasons, but the primary reason is my vision. As it continues to deteriorate (will it ever stop?) and seeing becomes more and more difficult, I’ve decided not to do things if they bring me little or no joy. Don’t get me wrong. I will always do the right thing and do things for others (that brings me joy) and do what I have to do, but if doing something as simple as a blog leaves me exhausted and frustrated, why do it, right?

I’m not a quitter. It’s just that I have to find other avenues to express myself and help others.

I am toying with the idea of a YouTube Channel with a focus for the legally blind, as that is what I am. There are about one million blind/legally blind people in the United States. That umber will continue to grow as people age and develop conditions like macular degeneration, diabetic retinopathy, and others. In my quest for knowledge and emotional support, I have discovered a channel called The Blind Life, which has helpful tips, technology information, and insights.

Part of the frustration with this my condition is the lack of information you receive from your doctor. “How bad will it get?” I asked him when the atrophy first started in 2018 (I’d already been getting regular eye injections in my better eye for eight years and had been legally blind in the other eye for 29 years). His response? “No one knows. Everyone is different.”

But I researched. And I found out that people with my condition are typically legally blind within ten years of onset. Why didn’t he tell me that? I wouldn’t have put off those trips I wanted to go on in retirement. New York City. The Rockies. A Western driving adventure through the Dakotas, Wyoming, and Montana. Another cruise, this time to the Virgin Islands. I wouldn’t have spent time editing other people’s books. I would have written my own instead (but I thought I’d have my own publishing company after teacher retirement.) I would have done more of the arts and crafts I loved because I can’t do them anymore.

I had to find for myself and with the help of my husband things like measuring cups and spoons for the visually impaired, a magnifying device that exceeds the abilities of the Walmart variety, and IrisVision, the headset/phone system that looks like a virtual reality headset to help me read (although I can’t actually read, just a few words) and watch television from a normal distance. I had to figure o9ut for myself to buy an adaptor for my laptop that could be connected to an HDMI cord of a not-in-use 47 inch television so I can use the computer (and sometimes have to wear IrisVision with that.)

Why did the clinic not give me that information? I don’t know.

But that’s what my channel will be about. I will share what I’ve learned and what I continue to learn. I will allow people to share their feelings in the comment section because even legally blind people can use speech to text and have web pages read to them by their computer (something else I had to learn about from a friend who is battling macular degeneration bu not yet legally blind in both eyes). I want the channel to be encouraging but also empathetic.

I hope to get the channel up and running in the next month or so, and I will blog about it at that time. I may blog about supporting caregivers of those who are handicapped as the caregivers are often overlooked. They have emotional burdens, and people forget about them. I may blog about a book or two coming out soon (because I can only stand to work on the computer for about an hour at a time, writing is a very slow process).

One of my sons cautioned me about letting my disability define me. I guess he’s right, but at the same time, I’m not giving in to it. I’m just trying to figure out what I can do to help myself, help others, and keep my life moving in a good direction.

I think the YouTube channel will help me accomplish those goals. The audience will be those who are in the same boat I am or caregivers for them. It will be focused, not random.

Many thanks to those of you who have followed my blog or read it when I’ve shared it on social media. I appreciate those of you who have allowed me to interview you, those of you who have commented on what I had to say, and those of you who shared my posts with others.

Now I’d better get busy figuring out how to do this YouTube Channel thing. At my age nothing with technology is easy!

If you’ve ever moved from one town to another, it is likely you feel nostalgic at times about the place you left behind. Of course, if you disliked that place, you block it out of your mind or think of it more as “thank goodness I do’t live there!” We moved to Arizona when I was three and moved to Middle Tennessee at the end of my sixth grade year. I missed Arizona and my friends a great deal, but I adjusted and built a good life in my new town. My parents moved away from there after I graduated from college, and with the town being 230 miles away, I haven’t gone back very often because there was no reason to do so.

However, (and this is where those of you who have moved around a bit might relate) I had the urge to go back and travel the roads I used to travel, see my old schools (well, school, because two are gone now), see the two houses we lived in, and so forth. My thoughtful husband knew I was having those thoughts and suggested we go visit. Not go visit someone. Just go visit the place.

So off we went on a beautiful fall day. Two hundred thirty miles later (interrupted only by the obligatory stop at Cracker Barrel), we arrived at our destination. First stop was the newspaper where my father was production manager for ten years. The good folks there allowed us to come in and look around. Wow, what a difference 41 years make! The newspaper industry has changed completely. The large back room that once housed a darkroom, layout tables, machines, and a huge printing press is now full of huge rolls of paper and the printing press. My dad’s office space was still there, and it looks as though maybe the same furniture sits in it, but I was a little misty-eyed remembering him in that spot. He passed away in 2012, but his presence in the place he loved to work was still strong. He worked with the architect who designed the building, so the place was his pride and joy.

We spent about two hours or so driving around and walking the once-familiar streets, and when we left, I was appreciative of the opportunity to go there and sad at the same time.

So much had changed. The old stores were gone, replaced by stores selling cheap items or even left empty. The nice neighborhoods of the 19i60s and 1970s are now older, and while still nice, they look…older. My former church has an addition to it as well as an extra building at the back. My high school, now a middle school, boasted a chain link fence to keep out unwelcome visitors. Signs of the times.

In a nutshell, my former home didn’t feel like home anymore. It wasn’t just because of the changes I saw. It’s because the people, or majority of them, that make my memories so special, are no longer there. Most of my close friends from high school have moved elsewhere, and my friends who do remain in the town have moved on with their lives, just as I have done.

I will confess I used to think I’d like to go back there in retirement. Nothing against my current town, but for personal reasons, I have never been as contented as I would have liked to have been living here. The town is wonderful, full of wonderful people, but for personal reasons I would never make public, it is not the town I wanted to live the rest of my life in. You may feel the same about where you live, and what gets you through the present time is the dream of where you can live when you retire.

After our trip, I realized going back to Middle Tennessee is not a good idea. Too much has changed. Plus, it’s too far from my children. Not extremely far, but it’s too far for easy weekend visits like we have now. There is no reason to relocate in an attempt to recapture the feelings of my youth. No doubt the reality of those years was not as smooth as my faded memories, and no doubt living there once again would be completely different than it was then.

One of my mother’s favorite sayings is “Time changes everything and everybody.” Very true. But every now and then, it’s fun to step back in time and have your heartstrings tugged by the memories of the people and experiences that once filled your life, the people and experiences that made you who you are today.

Those of you who have always lived in the same town, or even those of you who moved so frequently you didn’t have time to plant roots anywhere, can’t relate to what I’m talking about. But to those of you who understand because you’ve been there, I hope you have the opportunity someday to do as I did, to travel the old paths and reconnect with the person you once were. The experience itself will be bittersweet, but it will be worth it.

Or at least it was for me.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I were sitting on our front porch enjoying the early morning sunshine and cool temperature, and we started talking about the differences in the way we raised our children and the way we were raised. That led us to talking about how each generation has its own way of doing things.

Our parents, for example, were raised in The DePression, so life was all about survival and needs with little to no concern about wants. We were raised by parents who loved us by seldom told us they did. They were primarily concerned about our needs with some interest in our wants. Then our generation had kids, and we were all about our children’s needs AND wants. We told our children (and still do) that we loved them and showed them we loved them, we hoped, by doing things with them and supporting them in their interests, something we didn’t always receive from our own parents. They loved us and cared for us, no doubt, but their priorities were more about caring for our physical needs.

Our conversation got me to thinking about how people show their love for others, and I had heard about Gary Chapman’s book about the five love languages. The purpose of the book is to help people build better relationships by recognizing their own ways of expressing love for others and recognizing how others express their love for them. I’ve only read summaries of the book, so I don’t have an in-depth knowledge of the ideas he conveyed, but I think the five ways of expressing love are easy to understand.

According to Chapman, the love languages are words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. In other words, telling people we care, doing things for them, being gracious when others give us something, spending time with them, and hugging someone can show our care for them.

I think we do all of these things, but maybe we have a tendency to use one love language more than the others. I haven’t taken the online quiz to see which is my preferred love language, but I don’t have to because I already know what it is. And I know the love language that is hardest for me to accept.

The same love language. The love language I primarily use is the very language that is hardest for me to accept.

Acts of service.

I have the most amazing friends and family. Linda, Julia, Cyndy, and Martha Lynn will drive me anywhere, if I ask them, and they even call and ask if I need anything. I appreciate that so much, but I hate to ask them. (If you don’t know me or haven’t been following my blog, I have vision loss and can no longer drive.) I so appreciate what they do while hating the need to have them do it.

But they are appreciated more than they know.

Then there’s Barbara, who flew here at her own expense and gave up her two-week vacation to help my mother take care of my dying father so I could keep working. Dad was in hospice care, and we had no idea how long he’d last, so I couldn’t abandon my job as a middle school principal. As it was, he died five days after she left. Did I mention that Barbara is not even a blood relation but an in-law? Talk about an act of service. Would you give up your annual vacation to do that? I still feel there is no way to repay her.

So, I appreciate and value acts of service. I believe all the love languages are important, but the words of affirmation are hollow if not supported by the other four. People need to be told they are loved, but if we don’t show it by our actions, they are just words.

My parents loved me. My mom, who is still with us at 93, loves me. But we never say “I love you.” Not in words. I’ll write in in a card for her birthday or Mother’s Day. I’ll say it in ways like, “Well, I do these things for you because I love you.” But it never has been our way of communicating. They felt awkward doing it, and I still feel awkward saying it to her, although I have no problem telling my children I love them.

Maybe it’s generational. Maybe it is just our family dynamic. Maybe it’s a personality thing.

Whatever the reason, I still maintain that actions speak louder than words. What about you? Which love language do you prefer?

How many times have you heard that phrase or even said it yourself? I’ve heard it from people I know and even from people on television. I’ve read it on Facebook or at least seen the praying hands emoji or icon or whatever you want to call it.

This morning the weather was beautiful and a perfect time to have my morning coffee on the front porch. With very little traffic, perfect temps, sunshine, and only the sounds of nature surrounding me, it was an ideal time for prayer and reflection. So I prayed. Then I went inside for a coffee refill and realized my prayer had been the typical one and fairly short. I realized I had a long list of people to pray for, so when I went back outside, I prayed once more, this time praying for people by name instead of a general “be with the sick” or “comfort those who are grieving.”

When I finished and resumed sipping on my morning brew (flavored with Almond Silk Vanilla creamer, just a side note here), I thought about the phrase and how often it is said. A friend of mine once posted the question on FB if we actually prayed for people who asked for prayers on FB. I was guilty of commenting “prayers for you” or something along those lines but later on forgetting who it was I said I’d pray for. My friend’s question prompted me to start praying for those people the minute I read the post, before I even commented. That way, I couldn’t forget.

My thoughts were further deepened by the message from one of our ministers this morning. His lesson was about perspective, but his Biblical example was Jonah and how different his prayers were In Jonah 2 and Jonah 4. How ironic that my morning thoughts were reinforced by a sermon.

That irony or coincidence prompted this blog post. All too often, we give lip service to praying for others yet don’t do it. We say all the right things but don’t always do them. Prayers don’t have to be a long, flowery speech or even some sort of pattern we must follow each time we pray. A prayer can be as simple as “Lord, strengthen (name) as she battles cancer” or “Lord, give strength to (name) as he grieves over the loss of his wife.”

Is prayer enough, though? True, believers contend that God can do anything, but maybe we need to consider that we are God’s servants and by serving Him, we serve others. We put action behind our words. It is fine to pray for someone, but maybe that person needs to know you’re thinking of him and praying for him. Yes, you can comment on Facebook. You can send a text message. You can make a phone call. You can send a card. You can do something that lets that person know you truly are keeping him in your thoughts and prayers.

When my father was dying, a process that took a couple of months, I appreciated people telling me they were praying for him and for us. When my friend and her husband showed up one night with homemade soup and stayed for a short visit, the distraction of good conversation and the knowledge I had such a wonderful friend warmed my heart more than the soup warmed my body.

That’s just one example. I could go on and on about other personal experiences, but I’ll save those for other blogs. The idea I’m trying to express here is simply to avoid using hollow expressions like the title of this blog and make them real. If we say someone is in our prayers, then we should pray for them. We should show them in some way that we are doing just that.

As always, my blogs are simply my opinions, and you may disagree with me. But when I post this blog on my FB page today, I am going to tag my FB friends for whom I pray regularly. I’m going to take my FB friends for whom I’ve prayed recently because of illness or loss or difficult circumstances in their lives. And I’m going to try to do a better job of letting them know that I care.