In a home with two busy adults and four little eager beavers life might just be described as a series of crisis moments offset by brief intervals of tranquility. The severity of the crises varies from a few tears and the need to share to call the police and take no prisoners. (I’m not sure of the effectiveness of the mixed metaphors. Perhaps it’s really clever and makes sense. Perhaps not.) Anyways, this weekend we had a crisis nearing the more dire side of things. Carla came home from her quick jaunt to LA sans her glasses. A thorough check of her purse and suitcase and a series of phone calls to the Sheraton left her like a motorist out of gas on the side of the road leading to nowhere: empty and hopeless.
Now, such a crisis might not qualify for “sound the alarm” status were it not for the fact that without spectacles, Carla and Stevie Wonder suddenly have a lot in common, and it’s not the braided hair or the singing voice. Put it this way. When she doesn’t have glasses on, I check her cognizance not by holding up a number of fingers, but rather a number of arms.
With no known whereabouts for her glasses, we were forced to take action. Enter Lenscrafters, that commercialized savior of instant vision. A few short hours later, and Carla can now take in my body once again in all its blessed beauty. The jury’s still out on whether that’s a positive or negative.
The whole episode has got me thinking about sight and blindness. Physical sight is huge. To not be able to see is a cause for extreme consternation. It’s something that’s taken for granted until it’s in danger of being lost. At that point one takes whatever steps necessary in order to see, be it corrective lenses, surgery or the like. Of all the sense, it would probably be one of the toughest to lose.
I wonder though if spiritual blindness is even more catastrophic than physical blindness. To not be able to see the needs in front of me, to not see the ways of God’s working in the world- how tragic. To turn a blind eye to those in need- how sad. To have my soul’s vision blurred by all the useless stuff of life, the mundane and unimportant details- how depressing.
I know the urgency that we felt today in trying to make sure Carla could see. It felt somewhat all-consuming. I wish I felt that kind of urgency more often spiritually. I wish that I could sing “Open the eyes of my heart” with more fervor and earnestness.
Maybe every time I put my glasses on or my contacts in, I should say a quick prayer to ask God to lift the blinders and allow me to see. I wonder what kind of an impact that would have on my life, on my sensitivity to others, on my overall compassion quotient.
I guess the whole episode in the last 24 hours has made me want to be a little more like Mary Magdalene. After Jesus appeared to her at the empty tomb, she went to the disciples and had the complete absence of spiritual blindness. The Bible uses an exclamation (and notice, all your renegade punctuationeers who like to use multiple marks that it only uses one, even for the greatest event in the history of the world) so I’m guessing it was a joyful, can’t contain herself shout when she said, “I have seen the Lord.”
I can understand that. I think if I found the missing eyeglasses for my heart and was able to truly see the Lord, I’d shout too.
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