This is my friend Charlie. He is pretty amazing, and I have a lot of respect for him. He also played Cchhär in my movies Yibvlidj Apocalypse and The Heirs of Djeek. The graphic I made of him is based on a picture I took for Yibvlidj Apocalypse.
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| Charlie Ostlie Steven Sauke Illustration 2012 |
Frances Jane was born in Putnam County, New York on March 24, 1820. She was a beautiful baby girl, but at 6 weeks, a misguided doctor attempted to treat an eye infection with a mustard plaster poultice. It was a decision that would leave her blind for the next (nearly) 95 years.
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| Fanny Crosby at 25 |
When she was 9, young Fanny Crosby wrote:
"O what a happy soul am I,
Although I cannot see,
I am resolved that in this world
Contented I will be.
How many blessings I enjoy
That other people don't.
To weep and sigh because I'm blind,
I cannot, and I won't."
Incredibly gifted, she entered New York Institute for the Blind at the age of 15, and after graduating was invited to teach there. While she was in school, Braille hadn't even reached the US yet. She would never use it. Around the age of 20, she met a talented blind musician named Alexander Van Alstyne, who came to her school. They fell in love and were married in 1858.
In 1873, she was visiting her friend Mrs. Phoebe Knapp. By this time she was known to many as Aunt Fanny. During their visit, Mrs. Knapp sat down at her piano and played a new piece she had just written. Phoebe wondered, "What does this tune say?" After a few minutes of thought and prayer, Fanny said, "It says, 'Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!'"
She then began to dictate words to fit in Knapp's tune:
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.
Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels, descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.
She took great joy in her salvation, her love, and the promise of glory. A blind woman had "visions of rapture...burst[ing] on [her] sight!" The first thing she saw after being blinded as a baby was the glory she sang about in life. Indeed, she once said, "If I had a choice, I would still choose to remain blind...for when I die, the first face I will ever see will be the face of my blessed Saviour."
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| From her autobiography Fanny Crosby, Memories of Eighty Years Published in 1906 |
Fanny Crosby wrote over 8000 Gospel songs and hymns, in addition to over 1000 non-religious songs. She also published four books of poetry and two autobiographies. She did not allow blindness to hold her back, and in fact, she used it as inspiration and saw it as a gift from God. She is still one of the greatest hymn writers in history. Nobody has come close to writing as many as hymns and Gospel songs as she did.
"It seemed intended by the blessed providence of God that I should be blind all my life, and I thank him for the dispensation. If perfect earthly sight were offered me tomorrow I would not accept it. I might not have sung hymns to the praise of God if I had been distracted by the beautiful and interesting things about me."
- Fanny J. Crosby
Fanny Crosby was influential in the lives of multiple US presidents, including Martin Van Buren, John Tyler, James Polk and Grover Cleveland. (In fact, she dictated some of her work to a 15-year-old Cleveland to write down!) She played at President Ulysses S. Grant's funeral and wrote a poetic eulogy for President William Henry Harrison. She also addressed Congress regarding education of the blind. She spent her later years serving the poor and needy, supporting herself with her writing. She could also recite the four Gospels and the first three books of the Old Testament, as well as Ruth, Proverbs and Song of Solomon.
As I blogged previously, I very nearly joined her among the blind. God miraculously healed my eyes, for which I am incredibly grateful. My life would have been very different had my eyes followed the natural progression of retinitis pigmentosa. But I know that even if it had, I would still glorify God. Fanny Crosby is a shining example of keeping in perspective what many would consider a weakness, instead turning it into a strength. We can all learn from her determination, strength, drive and optimism, both despite and because of her blindness.
February 12, 1915 was a glorious day for Fanny. She opened her eyes and saw for the first time since she was 6 weeks old. After nearly 95 years, "visions of rapture now burst on [her] sight," as the first thing she saw was the face of Jesus. In the words of another of her hymns, she was "Safe in the Arms of Jesus."
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| From her autobiography Fanny Crosby, Memories of Eighty Years Published in 1906 |
https://www.staugustine.com/story/lifestyle/faith/2015/02/20/story-behind-song-blessed-assurance/16249006007/
https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/history-of-hymns-blessed-assurance
https://wordwisehymns.com/2010/11/20/today-in-1850-fanny-crosby-converted/
https://www.nyise.org/apps/pages/index.jsp?uREC_ID=428557&type=d&pREC_ID=936886
https://www.aph.org/fanny-j-crosby-embracing-the-gift/
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Fanny-Crosby
Way back around the turn of the century, I met Jill online. She adopted me as a younger brother and became the big sister I never had. I visited them in Tennessee in 2009, and I'm so thankful to know them. She has inspired me to adopt several siblings of my own. Though said adoptions have not been done in a court of law, they are siblings in every other way. However, Andy and Jill have adopted a bunch of kids (the official way), and they are now proud grandparents.
I did this portrait of Jill and her amazing husband Andy a few years ago.
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| Jill and Andy Steven Sauke Illustration |
The state-of-the-art ship was massive and was supposed to be unsinkable. It was one of the greatest achievements of the age, but an iceberg on a calm moonless night contributed to one of the greatest maritime disasters in recent history, and many souls found themselves literally nearer to God than they would have dreamed when setting out from England, France and Ireland just a few days previous.
But our story begins several millennia earlier.
c. 2000 BC, around 4000 years previous
The night was dark, and Jacob was exhausted from his trek across the land that would one day bear his future name of Israel. He found a stone and placed it on the ground to use as a pillow. As he slept, he dreamed about a stairway stretching into the sky with angels walking up and down it. God stood at the top and gave Jacob the following promise:
“I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”Genesis 28:13-15
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| El sueño de Jacob/Jacob's Dream Bartholomé Esteban Murillo Oil on canvas 1665 |
Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
still all my song shall be,
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
yet in my dreams I'd be
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
There let the way appear, steps unto heaven;
all that thou sendest me, in mercy given;
angels to beckon me
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
Then, with my waking thoughts bright with thy praise,
out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
so by my woes to be
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
Or if, on joyful wing cleaving the sky,
sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I fly,
still all my song shall be,
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
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| Sarah Flower Adams Margaret Gillies Sketch, touched with chalk artwork c. 1850-1875 |
There let the way appear, steps unto heaven;
all that thou sendest me, in mercy given;
angels to beckon me
nearer, my God, to thee;nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
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| RMS Titanic departing Southampton April 10, 1912 Photo by Francis Godolphin Osbourne Stuart |
This is my brother Aaron. We may not be biologically related, but that's beside the point. Although, there are Olsons among my ancestors, and we do look like we could be related, so I've often wondered if we are, distantly. We even have a similar sense of humor.
He was our pastor a few years ago, and of all our pastors, was one of the closest in age to me. After leaving our church, he moved to Texas. I miss him and keep in touch.
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| Aaron Olson Steven Sauke 2012 Illustration |
Today he sets a new personal record in the age department. I am proud to claim him as a brother, and he is one of the best.
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| Facebook Cover Art Steven Sauke 2012 Illustration |
Following are more pictures of him. The illustration above was based on one of the below. I am even in one of these pictures! I took these in 2012 and 2013. Since he lives so far away, we haven't been able to get pictures any more recently than that. Someday!
CHANGES COMING!!
Due to my exciting new job, I will not have as much time to maintain my blog. I still hope to blog regularly, but it will likely slow down a bit. I scheduled a bunch of blogs prior to starting my job (for example, it's April 12 as I type this), so they should still be coming for a while, but we will see how everything lands once I strike the proper balance. It may be every other day, or perhaps once or twice a week. We shall see.
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| Image by stockking on Freepik |
I still have some exciting ideas, so stay tuned, and be sure to hit the "Follow" button to the right! (You may need to scroll down a bit. If you are on a cell phone or tablet, you may need to view the Desktop version to see the Follow button.)
Don't touch that dial!
My uncle Randy was tragically killed by a drunk driver before I was born. I have heard wonderful things about him, and I wish I could have known him. It sounds like he was an amazing and very talented person. I did this portrait of him a few years ago in his memory.
My aunt Bonnie, his widow, did a guest blog a few years ago, telling her story, remembering him and her life since losing him. That was the first guest post on this blog.
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| Randy Rusk Steven Sauke Illustration |
In late 1873, a heartbroken father stood on the deck of a ship gazing out to sea at the site of the disaster that had tragically claimed the lives of all four of his daughters. This was only two years after he had lost his son and his business. Now this.
Horatio Spafford was a lawyer and real estate investor who had seen great success. He had an amazing wife and beloved children. He had a lucrative business. But his successful life began to unravel in 1871 when his 4-year-old son contracted and succumbed to scarlet fever. It was a tragedy no parent should have to go through, having to bury their own son. But things would get worse. The Great Chicago Fire tore through the city, leaving large swathes of it in charred ruins. Shortly after losing his son, his successful business was quite literally up in smoke. In the face of such unimaginable loss, he could not know that even worse tragedy was on its way.
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| The Sinking of the Steamship Ville du Havre Currier & Ives, 1873 Hand-colored lithograph Image courtesy of Springfield Museums Used with permission |
Horatio and his wife Anna were devastated. The stress of raising children and rebuilding a business in the face of such unspeakable loss was heartrending. They decided that they needed a change of scene. A vacation to England would be just the thing. Horatio was detained by unexpected business obligations, so he saw his wife and four daughters off as they boarded the SS Ville du Havre, bound for England. He would take another ship and join them soon.
November 21, 1873 was a day that would shatter their lives, literally and figuratively. Over the Atlantic Ocean, the Ville du Havre collided with the Scottish iron-hulled ship Loch Earn. Anna Spafford gathered her four young daughters on the deck and they desperately prayed to be spared, or to be able to endure what was to come. The ship sank in 12 minutes. Over 200 lives were lost that day.
A few days later, Horatio received a telegram from Cardiff, Wales that began:
Saved alone. What shall I do?
A sailor on a small boat had spotted a woman floating on a piece of wreckage and pulled her aboard. They were then picked up by a larger boat bound for Cardiff. As soon as Anna arrived, she telegrammed her husband back in Chicago. Anna told another survivor of the Ville du Havre, "God gave me four daughters. Now they have been taken from me. Someday I will understand why."
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| Horatio and Anna Spafford's daughters |
Gutted, Horatio booked the next available ship to Wales. The captain was aware of Spafford's tragedy and brought him out to the deck as they reached the site of the collision. As he looked out to sea and thought about his daughters, he was filled with a mixture of grief, comfort and peace. His emotions flowed on paper as he wrote the words that came to him to comfort in this horrible tragedy:
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll—
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to know,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
As the waves buffeted the ship back and forth, he wrote on:
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come
Let this blest assurance control
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate
And hath shed his own blood for my soul.
Some of this is speculation on my part, but having gone through tragedies of my own, I know we are often plagued by the "what ifs" of life. What if they had stayed home? What if he had gone with them and could have protected them? What if he had committed some sin God was punishing him for? At their hour of greatest need, he was miles away, helplessly and ignorantly unable to help. Rational or not, I know my mind has gone to places like that, and I'm sure his did as well, particularly in light of his poem.
My sin—oh the bliss of this glorious thought—
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross, & I bear it no more;
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, Oh my soul.
As he pondered, prayed, and agonized, it helped to remind himself that this was in God's hands, and God would bring him through it. Whatever sins he may have committed, whether or not they contributed to the tragedy, were forgiven and atoned on the cross. But even so, he missed his son and daughters horribly, and couldn't wait to see them again someday in heaven.
And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll—
The trump shall resound, & the Lord shall descend—
A song in the night, Oh my soul!
The above poem is from the original manuscript, which you can see here. A few words have been changed over the years for the hymn that we have grown up singing, but it is mostly intact. The biggest change I see is the last line. He would also write,
"On Thursday last we passed over the spot where she went down in mid-ocean, the water three miles deep. But I do not think of our dear ones there. They are safe, folded, the dear lambs, and there, before very long, shall we be too. In the meantime, thanks to God, we have an opportunity to serve and praise Him for His love and mercy to us and ours. I will praise Him while I have my being. May we each one arise, leave all, and follow Him."
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Naufrage du paquebot transatlantique la Ville-du-Havre. L'arrière du navire est encore au-dessus des flots, et le Loch-Earn envoie ses embarcations pour sauver les naufragés. Translation: Shipwreck of the transatlantic liner the Ville du Havre. The back of the ship is still above the waves, and the Loch Earn sends its small boats to save the shipwrecked. Artwork by Évremond de Bérard in Le Monde illustré, December 13, 1873 based on information taken in Le Havre, France and a sketch by M.G. Roullet Public Domain |
After returning home, their friends rallied around them. Among those friends was Phillip Bliss, who was gifted in music and was so moved by Spafford's poem that he set it to music. It has comforted and moved generations ever since.
Following the tragedy, the Spaffords had three more children, losing another son to pneumonia. They would eventually move to Jerusalem. His "faith became sight" in 1888, when he passed away and was buried there.
This hymn has been special for me, particularly when I learned as a child that I was born on the anniversary of the shipwreck that inspired it. The first time I heard the story behind it was on the radio. We sang the song growing up, and hearing the story moved me. But now, it means more to me than ever.
In 2019, I took my parents on an errand to Bellingham, Washington, about a 2-hour drive north of us. On the way home, I could feel myself getting drowsy and pulled into a rest stop so I could get coffee and stretch my legs. But just as we were on the freeway exit into the rest stop, I dozed off momentarily. The car veered off the road into the grass, taking out a road sign as I desperately tried to regain control. The car went neatly between trees and slammed into another tree, momentarily going airborne and landing perpendicular from where it had hit the tree. (I'm hearing the crashes and feeling the shock again just typing this.) The airbags deployed. My dad found my glasses on the ground outside the passenger door. I was badly bruised. My parents were injured worse. My brother Tim, who was at work at the time, immediately left work and rushed to the hospital where we were taken. I was in the hospital a few hours, and my dad was in a bit longer. After nine days in the hospital, my mom had to spend a few weeks in rehab. I did a sleep study and CT scan to determine if there were any sleep or brain issues. (On one visit to the neurologist, I joked that I had to have my head examined.) There were no brain issues, but I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. While my glasses were thankfully intact, I got a new pair that wouldn't come off as easily. I went through terrible feelings of guilt and "what ifs"... What if I had pulled off the freeway sooner? What if I had stayed alert for five more minutes? On the other hand, what if we had been on a bridge over a river when it happened, which would have been worse? So many "what ifs"! My family and friends had to reassure me over and over that it wasn't my fault, and the feelings of guilt were not helpful. After I had worked through that, a well-meaning friend asked me if I was feeling guilt about it and offered unsolicited advice—but by that point, her efforts were a bit counterproductive as it revived it a bit. Never assume what someone is feeling when they are grieving. You could be reawakening things they've already worked through and don't need to be reminded.
In mid-November 2021, my dad was in the family room watching football. I thought it was a bit odd that he was still sitting there at midnight, which was not like him, but I told him I was going to bed. He offered to turn the TV down, but I assured him the volume was fine. About 3 and a half hours later, my mom woke me. She was in tears. My dad was still sitting in front of the TV, but the screen saver had come on, and when she asked him questions, his answers didn't make sense. I got up and went in and talked to him. Most of his answers to my questions also didn't make sense. At one point I commented that we were very worried, and he said, "I can see that." He didn't want us to call 911, because he was afraid they would ask him questions and he wouldn't know what to tell them. We finally decided to call 911 anyway, and paramedics rushed to the house. At the hospital, he was diagnosed with a hemorrhagic stroke, which involves bleeding in the brain, and eventually transferred to another hospital a bit farther away that was better equipped to help. While he was in the hospital, their COVID guidelines only allowed for one designated visitor throughout the stay. My mom was the obvious choice, so Tim and I waited in the parking lot while our mom visited him nearly daily. His condition was up and down. Due to COVID, I was working from home, so one day while I was working, Tim took my mom. They made the painful decision to move him to comfort care, as all attempts at getting food into him were failing, and the only other option had the potential of doing more harm than good. Tim called me and told me they were coming home to get me. I alerted my manager that I had to go, and once they arrived, we returned to the hospital. Since he was on comfort care, the one-guest rule didn't apply, so we went up. I had some things I needed to discuss with my dad, and I wish I could have discussed them with him when he was coherent. But I was able to tell him, clear some things up, and get some closure. He was clearly in pain, and was unable to talk right then, but I'm fairly certain he could hear me. We were hoping he would feel a bit better the following day and I might be able to talk some more. But that night, shortly after midnight, we were back home and had gone to bed. Tim got a call from the hospital. Once he had turned the phone over to our mom, he came and got me. I will never forget his next words: "Dad just died." We hurried back to the hospital. He was gone.
Once again, the "what ifs" came. What if I had realized before going to bed that something was physically wrong? What if we had called 911 sooner? Could they have saved him? With a stroke, minutes count. What if the accident in 2019 contributed to his stroke? What if I had listened to his lessons more and appreciated him more when he was alive? What if? What if? What if? I even had to work through some of the "what ifs" from the accident again.
It has been a difficult road since losing my dad. So many times I want to tell him something, ask him a question, give him a hug. While he was fighting for his life, I felt helpless. But "Christ has regarded my helpless estate and has shed His own blood for my soul." In some ways, I felt I failed as a son, and didn't honor and respect my dad as much as I should have. But "My sin—oh the bliss of this glorious thought—my sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more! Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, Oh my soul!" I miss my dad horribly, but I cling to that "peace like a river" that "attendeth my way" as "sorrows like sea billows roll." Someday the faith WILL become sight. I will see my dad again. He is completely healed. I miss him, but for his sake I don't want him to come back. So I sing with my brother in Christ Horatio Spafford:
And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll—
The trump shall resound, & the Lord shall descend—
A song in the night, Oh my soul!
Don't get me wrong, I plan to live for a long time yet, and I want to make an impact while I'm here, but a part of me yearns for that day when we run into each other's arms and joyfully sing Jesus' praises at His feet!
Sources:
https://www.staugustine.com/story/lifestyle/faith/2014/10/17/story-behind-song-it-well-my-soul/985525007/
https://www.thetabernaclechoir.org/articles/it-is-well-with-my-soul.html
https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/history-of-hymns-it-is-well-with-my-soul
https://seelemag.com/blog/story-behind-it-is-well-with-my-soul-cportee
https://springfieldmuseums.org/collections/item/the-sinking-of-the-steamship-ville-du-havre-currier-ives/
https://www.spaffordhymn.com/
My cousin Darcy is an amazing, talented person. In the years since I did this portrait of her, she also got married and has an amazing son. Those facts have nothing to do with the fact that I did a portrait of her. Did I mention that I'm thankful for my family?
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| Darcy Steven Sauke Illustration |
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| Image by bravissimos on Adobe Stock |
The process of getting glasses has changed a bit over the course of my lifetime. When I was younger, the doctor had to put drops in my eyes to dilate them, in order to be able to look into my eyes easier. After the exam was done, I had to wear sunglasses for a while because they were sensitive to light while the dilation was wearing off. While people still do this sometimes, I much prefer the Optomap that they do now. You put your eye up to a fancy camera, and it takes pictures. I also like this because I can then see the inside of my eye on the computer screen as well. It's a more educational experience, as the ophthalmologist can point out parts of my eye, as well as indicate any issues. I find that fascinating, and I like to ask them to send me the pictures. (I call it my super extreme closeup.) The Optomap costs extra, but it's worth it for me, particularly because then I'm not super-sensitive to light for the next while. I've never particularly been a fan of the part of the exam where they puff a burst of air in the eye to test the pressure, though. While painless, it's a weird feeling.
In a different part of the office, you sit on a chair, cover one eye, and read from an eye chart on the wall. Then you do the same with the other eye. Then they pull out the phoropter. It looks like this, or some variation on it:
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| Image by ijeab on Adobe Stock |
You look through the eye holes, which have panes of glass in them that the doctor can change. They look a bit like magnifying glasses in there. They then have you look at the eye chart and compare two thicknesses of glass... "Can you see better with 1...or 2? 1...or 2?" After going through these and trying different ones, they can tell your prescription. That part hasn't changed much at all in my experience.
There is of course more to the eye exam than that, but those are the highlights. This site has good descriptions and pictures of the common equipment, if you'd like to learn more.
Once that is done, they can give you a printout of your prescription, though you sometimes have to ask for it if you want it.
Then you get to select frames (I love this part). Once you've picked out your frames, the optician (in the front office) has you put them on and look straight forward, and marks the temporary lenses where the centers of your pupils are. This tells the pupillary distance (PD), which is important for the people adding the lenses. (If you order frames online, you need the PD, and you usually have to ask for it. There are other ways of measuring it if you aren't picking frames in the shop.)
I went into changing frame styles over my lifetime in my post about what the cool kids wore.
Anatomy of Glasses (some of these may seem obvious, but people may find this useful):
Over the centuries, there have been multiple kinds of eyewear:
