“Seeing with New Eyes,” Ensign, Oct. 1992, 29
My grandparents were plains-walking pioneers. As their children, my parents never questioned the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ; consequently, the Book of Mormon has always been a part of my life.
When I grew up, I became the wife of a farmer in Castle Valley, Utah, and life became quite hectic. Although I had prided myself on my gospel knowledge as a seminary student, I found it increasingly hard to study after my marriage. I reasoned that it was not necessary for me to spend a lot of precious time reading the Book of Mormon; I already knew it was true.
One day I suffered a stroke and lost the sight of my right eye. For a while I was despondent, but as the years hurried by, I learned to live with vision in only one eye. In time my children left home to raise families of their own, and then my beloved companion was taken in death. I was left alone in a house that seemed to grow lonelier by the day.
Then our stake president asked all stake members to read the Book of Mormon before the next conference. With loneliness crowding my hours, I enthusiastically accepted the challenge. I had no idea of the obstacles that were ahead of me.
They began with news of my niece’s death in California. I made a hasty trip, and while there I noticed an annoying problem: a gray block seemed to be covering my left eye. All the way home I kept praying that it would go away, but it didn’t. I panicked.
A trip to an eye specialist terrified me even more. After a thorough examination, he flatly declared I was going blind. “There’s nothing you can do about it,” he said.
After some deliberation, I said to myself, That’s what you think.
Back home I called my home teachers and asked for a priesthood blessing. The next day, I noticed my Book of Mormon on a reading table. I picked it up, remembering my determination to finish reading it. As I held it in my hands, I bowed my head and offered a prayer to our Father in Heaven to help me finish.
I read painfully for a few days. Then one morning, as I sat in a rocking chair, the Book of Mormon in my hands, the sun suddenly seemed to shine more brightly. A feeling of elation swept over me, and I glanced at the open pages in my hands. I could see! Every word on the page was clear and easy to read. The little gray patch was gone! In a moment I couldn’t see anything because of the flood of tears streaming from my eyes.
Today, my home no longer seems lonely. I keep my special friend, the Book of Mormon, near me. Every evening, with few exceptions, I thoughtfully read its messages of comfort and testimony, of instruction and joy. In its pages I have come to know Jesus the Christ, our beloved Redeemer. I marvel at the love he extends to us and am thankful for the sight—and insight—he has given me.