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Hello All My AdlandPro Friends and Family!
Here is today's story of inspiration. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did!
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My daughter has become my blind son's 'eyes' and his biggest supporter.
By Lori Ulrich
My son, Preston, was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor in his optic nerve at the age of nine. Three years of experimental chemotherapy left him permanently blind and faced with the struggle of relearning his world. Blessings noted, blindness was his only challenge—and it changed out family forever. His sister, Lianna, was only six when she became his "eyes," his helped, his teacher and his best friend.
Lianna Stacia was always a princess, not only in looks, as any mother would say, but in her sweet disposition, gentle voice, graceful moves and angelic charm. She was a quiet, unassuming child who willingly gave of herself in time and patience. Lianna loved her brother so much, I often worried she would sacrifice her own life, needs and desires to make sure his were fulfilled.
During Preston’s lengthy absences, teachers at school often asked her how Preston was. One day, Lianna came home with a frown and stomped around the house. "Every day, my teacher asks me how Preston is. Just for once, wouldn’t it be nice if she asked me how I was?" Yet, her devotion and attention to her brother never wavered.
The first sunny spring day after Preston’s blindness, he went outside for the first time in months. Still weak from the pressures of chemotherapy, he bundled up, but no longer bolted out the door and charged full speed down our road. Instead, he opened the door and stepped out cautiously, sliding his feet and feeling ahead with his arms. He insisted on doing this alone, and I watched with motherly angst as he walked slowly down the road, stepping in the puddles and slipping on the ice. He stumbled and fell. I watched him mumble, stand up and continue.
Silently, I watched from the deck, tense with anticipation of what I would witness next. Then I heard laughter. Two happy voices giggling in the spring melt. The sound of two wanderers exploring their latest dig site in the pasture. Lianna was ahead, steering him around the old softened-up cow pies. I heard her crazy laughter as he stopped in one. I saw Lianna’s arm go up. Carefully, he took her arm and allowed her to guide him through the pasture, stopping frequently to examine the relics found in the melting snow. Then she took his hand and ran with him in a spring frenzy. At the barbed-wire fence she placed her hand gently on his head and pushed down. I could hear her talking. From there, I watched them both come to the tree fort, where she guided him up the steps and in safely.
I cried and went inside the house. Lianna needed no asking. She knew, at six, that rewards come from within, with the simple pleasure of creating joy for others.
Preston and Lianna had their bedrooms in the basement. Many nights, he tiptoed in, patted the covers with his hands and said, "Lianna, I love you." What he really meant was, "Lianna, I can’t sleep. I’m having nightmares about the tumor growing." "Lianna? Are you awake? I forgot to tell you what else I did..."
As his trusted confidante, she cuddled him beside her and listened. They laughed. She swore not to tell his secret fears. An innocent, empathetic soul rested within one whose life had also changed. The one who say with, comforted, prayed for and read to her brother during the long three years of chemotherapy. The one who described every new sight in great detail so Preston could have the mental image. The one who was always there.
Trust is a huge word in out house. You need to trust in order to jump across large, round hay bales with your sister. "Okay Preston. The next one is about two feet straight ahead," she’d say. And he’d follow.
Lianna challenged Preston, encouraging him to try new things and to never, ever let blindness be a disability. When Preston got ready for school or an outing, Lianna became his fashion designer, his hairdresser and critic. In six years, Lianna never walked ahead without turning around to check for her brother.
Today, Preston is considered an inspiration for other blind youth. People are amazed by his accomplishments, maturity and concern for others. Standing quietly, behind the pedestal, is the strongest one of all: his sister.
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It amazes me sometimes how a young child can be more kind and intune to others then adults can. We could learn alot from a child through watching their actions.
Marilyn L. Ali
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