This post will make more sense to those who struggle with less than perfect eyesight. My book club discussed “The Glass Castle” at our most recent meeting. One of the tales included in the rambling memoir recounts the story of the author’s older sister getting glasses. It brought back memories of when I tried on my first pair. For those of you who wear glasses…do you remember the first time you put them on?
I was in 4th grade, and it was thrilling. I was fascinated by how much detail lay within the fuzzy, blotchy shapes that usually populated my field of vision. And on my way home, I read every single street sign (which, halfway home, I realized was greatly annoying my mother, so I just mouthed them instead of reading them aloud.)
I love when life gives us moments like that: when suddenly things go from convoluted to clear. It can be a simple moment or an extraordinary one…but it is always something that leaves you different on the other side.
But, just like glasses, the first prescription is not the final one. Every year or so, I go back and have my vision re-examined. And with each new pair of glasses, I am reminded of how much detail I have gotten used to missing among the blur. And if you’re like me, it’s not just fuzz you have to deal with. I also have astigmatism. This means I have to have special lenses that compensate for the irregular bend in my cornea.
Where am I going with this?
I was singing “Open the Eyes of my Heart” a few days ago, and I started to think about the vision that the song is talking about: Looking at things not just with your head, but with your heart, looking at things from a spiritual and eternal perspective. As Rafiki would say, “Look beyond what you see.” (This line is part of a really funny part in Lion King 1 ½. If you haven’t seen it, put it on your list. It’s totally worth it. I digress…)
Sometimes, I think we don’t need to just be reminded to look beyond what we see. We need a little more help. More than just realizing our hearts have “eyes,” admitting that perhaps they need glasses too. Maybe we don’t realize that all we’re seeing is blur. There’s detail to be discovered in the fuzzy convoluted shapes. The trees aren’t just green. They’ve got branches. And those branches have leaves. Individual leaves.
Or, the thought that really got to me, maybe the eyes of our heart have astigmatism. Maybe we don’t realize that we’re putting our own bend on things, and we’re not seeing them as they are.
Hmmm…it’s certainly giving me something to mull (and pray) over.