by Janet Perez Eckles

So why wouldn’t I jump at the chance to head to the mall when a great sale is calling my name? I imagine some folks might resist a shopping trip when blindness sets in, but not me.

"I’ll pick you up early," says my friend Laura. "There’s a great sale going on, and we don’t want to miss it."

Although we both love a bargain, Laura knows adventure sometimes accompanies sales when shopping with a blind friend. Some incidents make our cheeks burn with embarrassment; others spark roars of laughter.

When we are shopping for a sweater for me, a salesclerk talks only to Laura: “What color do you think she’d like?” I chuckle a little. Why would they ask her when I’m standing right here?

Some of my favorite experiences come when salesclerks talk to me with loud, exaggerated phrases. Do they think if they speak louder, I might see a little? Each of these encounters adds spice to our shopping adventure. I always begin the journey armed with a sense of humor and the determination to overlook unintentioned slights. When encountering such innocent comments, I simply put frustration back on the rack. I clutch my friend’s arm, and we move on to hunt bargains.

“Look, the perfect outfit for you,” says Laura, pulling me through the aisle.

"What color is it?"

“Black and red—your colors.” She places it in my hands. “And it’s on sale.”

I feel the fabric, the shape, and style. Then, with a clear image in my head, I smile and add the item to the try-on pile.

In the dressing room, Laura insists, “It’s got to fit you. The price is unbelievable.”

I slip the dress on half way, and it gets stuck. “Uh, it’s a little tight,” I say, my muffled voice emerging from inside the garment as my arms flail over head.

“It will look great on you,” Laura says as she tugs at the sides. “Keep trying.” I try to stay calm, but my arms are trapped.

“It’s got to fit. It’s your size!” Laura insists. She tugs harder as I wiggle and strain, but the dress won’t budge.

“I really think I need a bigger size,” I plead.

“Remember, no pain, no gain,” urges Laura. She gives one last yank, and suddenly the dress is on. “There, it fits perfectly!” she insists with satisfaction. My arms hang limp at my sides. They sting from the fabric that rubbed them raw. Laura’s praise eludes me as my concentration drifts. I covet the skill of Houdini, which I think I may need to get free of this garment.

“It looks great, Janet. Turn around. . . Oh, no!” I feel Laura’s hand tugging at the back. “There’s a zipper. I didn’t see it before. You have to really look for it.”

“A zipper? A zipper!” Well, that’s a relief.

The experience with the dress reminds me of the painful struggle that invaded my world when I first faced blindness. When a black curtain fell on my world, its darkness swallowed my dreams. At thirty-two, a retinal disease stole my sight and with it—for a while—my motivation and purpose. The unexpected black episode shattered the plans for my husband of ten years and the hopes we had for life with our three little boys.

The struggle affected each of us—my husband with apprehensions about being married to a blind woman, my sons adjusting to a mommy who could no longer see.
  
Groping for solutions, I dashed to the world’s shopping mall. I filled the cart of my heart with self-pity, bitterness, and anguish. I mistakenly chose my own solutions, thinking they would fit. Anxiety squeezed my heart, and frustration left it raw. I tugged, yanked, and pulled to find a fitting solution for my anguish. I wore myself out trying to make my own solutions fit. But none did.

Then, when ready to give up, I stepped into the closet of my soul, and discovered the zipper of my heart. I invited Christ into my life, and right away I breathed with relief.

His faithfulness, compassion, and guidance offered a perfect garment for my soul. The wisdom I drew from His word gave me ways to resolve issues with my family; it provided healing and strength for our marriage. I was able to teach my sons that life challenges can be turned into channels God uses to lead us.

The accessories of God’s trustworthy promises completed the wardrobe of a new life—one rich with a newfound reassurance. Since He created me, He knows what fits my needs. He knows the size of my pain, the color of my frustration, the fabric of my fears, and the fashion of my insecurities.

Having found the zipper to my heart, I now feel the comfort of a perfect fit. And when shopping for a solution to any problem, I dash to the rack overflowing with His love. To my delight, the price tag always reads “free.”

Janet Perez Eckles is a conference speaker, freelance writer, and contributor to seven books, including Chicken Soup for the Soul. She is also the author of Trials of Today, Treasures for Tomorrow: Overcoming Adversities in Life. Visit her blog at: www.janetperezeckles.com