By KAREN ZACHARIAS of the East Oregonian
PENDLETON - If 5-year-old Kristopher Jerome could have anything he wanted for Christmas, it would be for his grandpa to see again.
As the oldest of Doug Jerome's three grandchildren, Kris holds a special place in his grandpa's heart. He is the only grandchild Jerome has ever seen. Kris was 9-months-old when a massive heart attack rendered Jerome blind.
Young Kris is a believer in the magic of Christmas. But he doesn't depend on Santa to grant his wish; he has put his request in his prayers.
Yet, Kris is a practical soul. He knows Santa doesn't always bring what we really want and God doesn't always answer our prayers our way. So, despite his repeated prayers for his grandpa's healing, Kris recently offered some comforting words to Jerome. "He told me, 'Don't worry, Grandpa. We are taking lots of videos. When you die, I'm sure Jesus will let you borrow his VCR to watch 'em with,'" Jerome recalled with a laugh.
For his part, Jerome is in no hurry to rush the dying part. He's already had a taste of that when, following a hunting trip in November of 1993 with son Jim (Kris' father), Jerome felt a burning sensation in his chest.
"My lungs felt like they were on fire. It was like breathing in really cold air," he recalled.
When wife Phyllis arrived home from services at the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer, where she has worked as secretary for the past eight years, Jerome asked her to take him to the hospital, but he collapsed before the couple got out the front door. Life Flight transported him to St. Vincent's Hospital in Portland in time for successful double-bypass surgery that spared his life. But oxygen depravation to his optic nerve left him totally blind.
"I should have died, but by the grace of God and the care of good doctors and nurses, I made it," Jerome said.
The experience changed more than just Jerome's ability to see; it changed his perspective on life.
"I used to be a Clairol Christian - nobody but God and me knew," he said. "I kept everything bottled up inside me."
Jerome believes stress sparked his heart attack.
It's this message 59-year-old Jerome delivers to the inmates at the Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution where he works as a volunteer with Pathfinders, a class focusing on stress and anger management.
"Inmates often ask me, 'What's it like being blind?' I'm in my own prison, locked in four black walls, a life sentence with no possibility of parole," he said.
That first Christmas, Jerome was so overwhelmed by his blindness that he wept. It was his daughter, Angela Jerome Pursel, who persuaded him to move beyond his grief.
"Angela really got me going. She told me, 'We are not going to let you sit in your chair and die,'" Jerome said.
Her words made him realize "you have to play the hand you're dealt," he added.
Thus began his quest to carve out a life with a mission.
It's been a difficult journey, filled with fear and frustration. Prior to the incident, Jerome was self-employed as a weatherization inspector and consultant. He traveled throughout Umatilla and Morrow counties, and he misses getting in the car and driving for miles on end. An avid outdoorsman, hunting and fishing were favorite pastimes. He vividly recalls his first fishing excursion after he lost his sight.
"I was afraid to get into a boat," Jerome said.
Son Jim persuaded him to try it. With his heightened sense of movement and balance, he feared the boat would tip when the wind picked up.
But today, Jerome is no longer afraid. He moves about confidently. He attributes his assurance to a newfound trust.
"With Brogan on my left and God on my right, I'm no longer afraid of the dark," Jerome said.
Brogan is the doe-eyed yellow lab that serves as Jerome's seeing-eye partner. He has been at his master's side since March 1995, following their mutual graduation from the Guide Dog School of the Blind in San Rafael, Calif.
"He's a California dog. Brogan's laid back. He doesn't get flustered," said Father Jim MacKenzie, Jerome's minister. "Brogan's a wonderful servant, who understands more than I think we give him credit for."
Indeed. He sits attentively, expectantly, listening as if he comprehends all of Jerome's conversation. When Jerome receives communion, Brogan joins him at the altar, where Father Jim offers Brogan a blessing.
The pair are involved in prison ministry both at EOCI and at the Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla. Jerome speaks with pride of the tender way Brogan approaches inmates, even those on death row.
"It's interesting to watch these big burly guys, they just melt when they see Brogan," Jerome said.
Brogan has his own badge and ID card, allowing him entrance at the prison. And he wears a wooden cross around his neck.
"Being blind has been a blessing," Jerome explained. "I used to judge people by what they look like. Now everybody looks the same to me. I read them with my heart. I see more now that I'm blind than I ever did with my sight."
Still, Jerome admits, he misses certain sights of Christmas.
"The hardest thing about being blind is not being able to see the faces of my grandkids, especially at Christmas time," he said.
His grandson continues to question why God won't heal grandpa.
"He prays every day for Jesus to come fix my eyes," Jerome said.
But Jerome encourages young Kris to look at things from his perspective.
"I tell him God didn't do this to me, but He has a plan for it," he said.