Sonya Newman: Her Father’s Eyes
Lora Parsons
The Ashland Beacon
Anyone who knows Sonya Newman knows that, in the words of an old Amy Grant song, she has her Father’s eyes. The words of that song describe how she lives her life--one that has included hardship due to multiple issues with the physical eyes she inherited at birth. What doctors failed to see then was the potential she had for seeing the world through her Father’s eyes: “Eyes that find the good in things/When good is not around/Eyes that find the source of help/When help just can't be found/Eyes full of compassion/Seen in every pain/Knowing what you're going through/And feeling it the same. She has her Father’s eyes,” and those eyes see what truly matters in the world she’s been blessed to build.
Newman, wife of Faith Baptist Church’s pastor, Gary Newman, and mother to Gracie and Noah, currently serves as the Worship Leader for her church congregation. She was raised by godly parents at Abundant Life United Pentecostal Church in Raceland. She attended Boyd County Schools, Lindsey Wilson College, and Morehead State University. She has worked in the past as a sign language interpreter in the Boyd and Greenup County School systems and also served as the Assistant Director for the Boyd County Middle School Sign of the Times Choir for nearly two decades. Teaching sign language and being in seven productions at the Paramount round out her resume. While life sounds mostly normal, her physical struggle has made it anything but. In sharing the details of her story, Newman said:
“When I was born, the doctors told my parents that I was perfectly healthy but completely blind and would be unable to have any kind of meaningful life. That news must’ve been very difficult for them to hear, but my grandmother who was there when I was born, hit her knees and pleaded with God for this child to not be blind. Technically, I am not completely blind, only visually challenged with a series of issues. I have double coloboma, nystagmus in both eyes and strabismus as well. I’ve had 15 surgeries altogether, including a cataract surgery that went wrong and caused problems. I also had one experimental surgery and a corneal transplant, which helped for a while, though its initial benefit diminished over time. Since birth, I’ve been considered legally blind, and my measurable vision has over time decreased.”
Newman continued, “Initially, my parents were told I would never do the normal things they would expect a child to do, like go to a regular public school. I would never drive a car or have any hope of a productive, even slightly independent life. I would need constant care for the duration of it. My mom refused to accept this as true and raised me as she raised my older brother. She never said ‘I couldn’t’ and wouldn’t allow me to say the words ‘I can’t.’ She let me find my own limitations and she encouraged independence. When the time came, I was enrolled in public school, eventually graduated, and then went off to college. There were not a lot of assisting devices back then to help, so I had to learn to adapt on my own. I was the guinea pig for many others that came later with visual impairments. Socially, I had friends and was very accepted until high school, where I became a loner. I didn’t participate in a lot of extracurricular activities, mostly out of shyness.”
The struggle continued even through adulthood. Newman remarked, “Emotionally, the older I get, the harder it has been. I often don’t feel as though I’m a part of anything. Nobody understands what it’s like to be me--that my disability is only part of what makes me who I am. But, it does impact daily life. Memorization is how I know my surroundings. I memorize steps to places and objects, and I feel my way around in order to gain my bearings. New places require me to learn such things on the fly, so there’s some anxiety for me to overcome as well. I am constantly concerned about falling or running into things. My husband and my children are a huge help to me. It’s natural for them to step in and assist without being asked. I do most normal things like cooking, cleaning, housework, playing games with the kids, helping with homework, and interacting on social media, but the hardest part of daily life is the fact that there are crucial things that I miss. I go to my kids’ plays and sporting events but never get to actually see them as they’re doing something. I have to live through pictures and descriptions. It’s never in real-time. When watching TV, I listen for audio cues, and concerts sometimes have to be described to me in order for me to understand. Despite these challenges, I’ve learned that there’s always a way around my impairment; I just have to find it.
When God answered my grandmother’s prayer, He sealed me for what He wants to do with me even now. He’s given me the ability to minister to my church, and I have a testimony that I can share. I started singing in church shortly after I could talk, and more recently have begun sharing in other churches. I try to embrace every opportunity God gives me to tell of His goodness in my life. I have been blessed to be made the way I am in order to minister to others.”
In looking for ways to serve, Newman has recently begun work on a CD, providing listeners the chance to worship with her, on-demand. What some would view as an IMpairment, she has always chosen to “see” as a prepare-ment. The visual difficulty she’s dealt with helps her view the world through a lens of compassion that others would benefit in following behind more closely. The loneliness that has sometimes followed in her tracks has allowed her to leave a trail of inclusion for those who find themselves marginalized. And, the words of those naysayers and never-will-ers have been replaced with a joyful noise erupting from her slight frame with a powerful message: Jesus takes what we might consider to be broken and makes it beautiful. His eyes see compassion in every pain. His eyes know what we experience and feel it as well. And, sometimes, He sets His eyes so deeply inside His creation, as is true of Newman, that we can’t help but see the Father’s eyes looking back at us through theirs.
