Life Beyond The Sight Of Darkness

why am i still here

• Robert

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This is an introductory audio segment for a show or podcast titled "Life Beyond the Sight of Darkness." The host, Robert B., warmly welcomes listeners and shares his mission: to support people navigating vision loss or trauma by helping them find hope, purpose, and confidence. The tone is friendly and encouraging, emphasizing that no one should have to face darkness alone. The segment ends with an inviting call to action: "Grab your Joe and let's go."

I know exactly the sound you mean. That "shimmering" ambient electric guitar, soft organ pads, and a gentle piano that just breathes with the speaker. It’s that deeply spiritual, reflective atmosphere that invites people in. I’ve dialed in that specific Altar Call feel for you. How does this one resonate?

Robert Bedard:

I was born on January 27, 1977. From the start I had to fight for survival. I came into the world blue with jaundice, and even though I was a week overdue, I was as small as a preemie baby. My body wasn't ready, so the doctors quickly put me in an incubator. I can't remember what those first hours and days felt like, but my parents and my family did. As I grew up, I heard my family tell the same story over and over. Robert was blue. He was so small, we weren't sure that he was gonna make it. Healing this story would always cause me to wonder why. Why am I still here? What am I fighting for? Maybe you've been through something that could have ended differently. Maybe you're asking yourself why am I still here? That question isn't just confusion, it's actually a calling. I believe that God has been telling you I've been here protecting you because I have a plan for you. As a child I would always struggle with my vision. I remember squinting at the chalkboard in school and holding the book so close to my face. Other kids would ask, Why do you do that? Why are your eyes so weird? I didn't have an answer, because I had no knew what was wrong. All we knew was that something wasn't right to me. The world looked blurry, unclear, like I was looking through a frosted glass. But everything changed in February of 1982, when I was five years old. My grandmother, God bless her soul, was the first to say it out loud. She told my parents, something is wrong. He needs to be seen, really seen. Thank God for grandmothers who noticed these things. That led us to Mass Eye Association where I met Dr. David Tracy. Dr. Tracy finally gave a name to what I've been experiencing my whole life. They call it oculalbinism with astigmatism. Oculoalbinism means my eyes have less pigment, which affect how my retinas develop. Asgmatism means my eyes aren't perfectly shaped, so light doesn't focus the way it should. Because of these conditions, I saw the world differently from others. But the most important thing was that we finally had an answer. After years of wondering and feeling like something was wrong, we finally had a name, and there is power in naming something. Maybe you're in that uncertain place right now. You know something's wrong, but you don't have a name for it yet. You're waiting and feeling confused. Hold on to hope. God sees what you can't, he knows what you don't, and he's already working for you. Dr. Tracy didn't just give us a diagnosis and send us on our way. He connected us with the Mass Commission for the Blind. That's when I met with Susan Christensen. Susan became an important part of my support system. She taught me how to get around in a world that wasn't made by eyes like mine. She showed me that having a visual impairment didn't mean I wasn't broken. It just meant I experienced the world differently. I wasn't the problem, my eyes just worked differently, and that was okay. I wasn't alone. Because of Susan's guidance, in May of 2000, I was invited to attend the Carroll Center for the Blind Independent Living Program. This wasn't just a weekend workshop. It was intense training that taught me how to navigate the world as a blind person. It wasn't only about surviving, it was about living. I learned mobility skills, assessive technology, and self-advocacy. I learned that being blind didn't mean helpless. I returned in January of 2001 for another year and graduated in December of 2001. That experience changed everything. It wasn't just learning skills, it was about reclaiming my identity and refusing to let my visual impairment set my limits. It was about becoming who God made me to be. If you're just diagnosed with vision loss, please hear this. You're not broken, you're not alone, not a burden, you're not less than others. Your eyes may work differently, but your value is the same. You are still fearfully and wonderfully made. There are people like Susan who are ready to walk beside you and help you. Programs like the Carol Center for the Blind to teach you how to live with confidence. One of the lies you might hear is that you have to figure this out on your own. This isn't true. That's a lie. There is help. There is hope. There's a community waiting for you. Looking back now, more than forty-eight years later, I could see God's hand throughout the season of my life. He protected me at birth when I came into this world, blue and struggling. He helped my grandmother in the right places at the right time to say something's wrong. He led us to Dr. Tracy, who had the knowledge to diagnose what others hadn't missed. He connected us to Susan, who became a lifeline. He opened the doors to the Cal Center. At the time it felt like we were just scrambling, reacting, and trying to figure things out. But now I can see it was all part of a bigger plan. God was planning and bringing people and support into my life that changed things for the better. In Jeremiah 29, it says, For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper not to harm you, plans to give you hope in a future. Friend, God knew what your diagnosis was before you did. He knew about your struggles before it happened. He knew about the darkness you would face before you took your first step. He has already been working, bringing people into your life, opening doors and preparing the way so that when you arrive you won't be alone. Who has God already placed in your life to help you through what you're facing? Take some time to write about it. Pray about it. Thank God for people He has already given you. Father God, I thank you for each and every person listening right now. I thank you for for their courage in showing up and engaging with stories that might hit close to home. For those waiting for answers, who know something is wrong but don't have clarity, I pray for peace. Guide them, give them the right people who can help. Give them hope in the unknown. For those who have just been diagnosed with vision loss, I pray for strength, correct connection, lead them to support and resources they need. Lord, remind them that they are not broken, not alone, and still fully loved by you. For those struggling to find their purpose, I pray for understanding that God shows you you are loved and you are worthy and you are needed. Lord, show them what you are calling them to do. And for those of who those of you who are trying to get through today ought sustain them and Lord, carry them, remind them that they are not alone. We trust you, we thank you, and we love you. In Jesus' name, amen. I wish I could say that once we got the diagnose, everything got easier, but that's not how the story went. Even though we finally had answers about my vision, my life was about to become much more complicated. Next week in episode two, I'll share about the challenges I faced growing up with the instability, the fear, and the wounds that no doctor could diagnose. It will be vul vulnerable but important. Some of you are carrying pain from your past that aren't that you haven't fully processed. Maybe my story will help you start your own healing journey. I I thank you for taking the time to listen, and may God bless you all. Until next time. Thank you.