I Once Was Blind…

There it was: an error in a book I’d proofread. And on the very first page, in the chapter heading! I was sick. I e-mailed my apologies to the publisher.

“Mistakes happen,” she answered. “You’re a great editor.”

I knew she was wrong. Was I losing my eye, my ability to spot errors?

“God, I know this is silly,” I prayed. “It’s one error. But I can’t stop thinking that I’m a total incompetent. Please help me understand the magnitude of my mistake.”

The next morning, I got onto my apartment building elevator. There was a man with a red-tipped white cane.

“I’m new here,” he said. “Would you walk with me to the subway?”

“Of course,” I said. “Just take my arm.”

We had a nice chat, then two blocks later, we were there.

“Thanks,” he said. “See you around the building.”

I took his hand and shook it.

“My pleasure. I’m Melanie.”

“Reinhart.”

Then it hit me. When I had prayed for perspective about my error, God had sent a man who relied on his memory, his remaining senses, and people’s kindness. I turned back.

“Reinhart?”

He turned his head. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled broadly. “You’re welcome.”