I Can See Clearly Now
Read: Mark 8:22-25, UMH 454
If you’ve known me very long, you’ve known me as a glasses-wearer. I got my first pair when I was eight or nine (I know it was fourth grade, I just don’t remember how early in the year it was), and I kept “upgrading” to new, more powerful models on a regular basis until I had finished 60th grade. Then, my ophthalmologist told me that if I didn’t get my cataracts fixed pretty soon, the Secretary of State would be after my driver’s license. (I consider that a motivational speech worthy of Dan Campbell.)
I had been expecting this for quite some time, really. Both my parents had had cataract surgery, so it was not a big surprise that I would be in line for the same. Still, surgery isn’t something one generally anticipates with joy – although I did look forward to having had it done, rather than having it done, if you know what I mean.
I remember when Mom was first scheduled for the surgery, and was a bit frightened – after all, having someone take something out of your eye and put something else back in while you’re awake doesn’t sound like the stuff of dreams (nightmares, perhaps). Fortunately, another church member, Bert Prisk, told her it was the best thing she could ever do – he had re-discovered colors he hadn’t seen for years when he had his surgery – so she went into it with a little less trepidation, and then she found with joy that there were so many different colors in the flame of a candle.
I used Mom’s experience to settle myself for my surgery. I won’t bore you with all the details (ask me later if you really want the bird’s eye low-down), but I will say it was great having Nancy Grose drive me to and from my first one (it was scheduled while Heidi was assisting with other surgeries), and tell me later that I “must have a devotion in there somewhere.” Indeed I did.
At any rate, that was several months ago, and I’m still adjusting to this bare-eyed way of life. Did you know that wind and snow and rain can go right in your eyes when you’re out walking? Nobody warned me about that. I sometimes reach to remove my glasses to wash my face. I even expect them to fog up when I come in from the cold. (I actually thought they had when I walked through the dryer exhaust on the driveway the other day!)
All of this made me think that maybe sometimes miracles aren’t something mysterious. Sometimes they’re just how God has led men and women to do their best to help someone else. I really don’t want to call something that’s commonplace now a miracle, but that’s how it feels to me day after day. Of course, real miracles really are miraculous and mysterious, and maybe some day I’ll witness one of those, but for now, I’m going to thank God for His miraculous leading of all the folks who were involved in giving me this gift of sight.
Prayer: Heavenly Father, we thank You for the gift of sight – for all of our senses. Even more, we thank You for those glimpses of truth You reveal to us in the commonplace miracles that surround us every day. Open our eyes, illumine us, Lord. Amen.
Charlie van Becelaere
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