"I have some lumber to sell you.”

I looked up from the accounting books and felt a sense of dread. The young man with the deep voice had come into the store several days earlier and, when I refused to buy the low-quality lumber he’d offered, threatened me.

I hadn’t taken him seriously, but now he was walking toward my desk, glaring.

Eyes darting side-to-side, he moved in long, stealthy steps like a tiger stalking its prey. In his right hand he gripped a long, shiny knife. Panic-stricken, I choked on each breath.

Somehow, I had to get away.

As I bolted for the door, his accomplice came up behind me and blocked my exit. The first man held the cold metal of the knife against my throat and snarled, “You dirty *#@*!”

My heart pounded as I silently screamed, I must get away from them! Instead, I froze. Helpless.

In that instant, I expected death. I prayed for God to intervene. I prayed for a customer to come in.

My assailants forced me into a recliner. They tied my hands behind my back, and then stuffed a filthy cloth into my mouth. I gagged; the cloth reeked. I wanted to shout at them, “Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you?” But fear and the gag kept me silent.

The first man took a jar from his black backpack and forced my head back. My chest tightened in terror. What was he doing?

“No! No!” I screamed through the dirty rag in my mouth. “Leave me alone!”

The man grinned in evil pleasure as he poured the liquid into my right eye, “Take this!” and then my left. My eyes burned. I moaned in agony. Liquid dripped down my face and onto my neck and chest, peeling away skin. My face sizzled like bacon in a frying pan.

I heard the men pick up their booty and run out the door. I writhed and groaned. Oh God, why did you let this happen? My face is being burned away. And, I can’t see.

My nose started disintegrating as the liquid consumed it. Barely able to breathe through the little hole where my nostril used to be, I moaned, “At least I can breathe.” In the next instant, I cried out, “God, just let me die!” I couldn’t stand the intense pain.

In a few brief seconds, my entire life passed before me. Death moved in to get me. A haze fell around me as each breath shortened.

Then, suddenly, through the haze, a vision erased the images of the hateful faces of the hoodlums who had left me to rot. I saw myself transformed into an eloquent speaker, addressing thousands. My audience sat on the edges of their chairs, listening intently to every word and, when the speech ended, jumped to their feet applauding, giving me an energy I had never before experienced. I saw the development of friendships and of opportunities to teach and write. My revelation placed me on green hills beside still waters. It seemed so real as the Holy Spirit comforted me. Death was no longer imminent.

The vision disappeared, and I struggled, trying to twist out of the bindings that held me. The ropes around my hands loosened. I untied my feet and somehow stumbled out of the office, blindly making my way next door to the landlord’s house.

He screamed, “Lord God, they have put acid on her,” and grabbed a hose to wash me off. He tried using a towel to wipe my burning face, but the fabric disintegrated in his hands.

They rushed me to the hospital. I heard one of the nurses whisper, “She is blind. Look at her eyes. They have turned white.”

In that moment, the things I wanted to achieve — my hopes, my dreams and my quest for a better life — disintegrated along with my skin. But even in the midst of this living hell, I felt God’s strength. I whispered in my soul, Thank you, Lord, that I can breathe through this hole in my face.

A four-month stay in our Jamaican hospital didn’t help, though they repeatedly applied different salves and ointments to my swollen face and chest. They expected me to die.

But that made me want to live all the more.

I will live, I whispered over and over again. God, help me find the strength to continue on.

Thus began my journey to give myself to His will. He would provide the power to regain my sight and hide my burns. Several people and organizations made it possible for me to travel to America, where I now live. Generous individuals and groups raised the funds to pay for surgeries to restore my eyesight and repair damaged skin. Corneal transplants have failed, and I’m currently blind; but I’m not giving up.

God has strengthened me to fight for my health and has taken care of me. I’m still disfigured and, at times, I sense people turn away from me in horror. But I know God loves me and I’m valuable, regardless of my present inability to earn a living and my dependence on others to help me.

The men who hurt me have not been brought to justice. It’s hard to find the selflessness to forgive them. But I must. Forgiveness means stepping out of the past and into the future. I’m determined to work with God’s love and thereby defeat the evil inflicted on me.

I don’t know why God allowed this tragedy, but I do have a choice. I have no control over my affliction, but I own my heart. I want to become a better person despite my blindness. I believe God has a bigger dream for my life than I have for myself. Evil men took my eyes, but God has given me clear vision.