This is the anniversary of sorts for Sally. Seven years ago she went into what some will call a simple surgical technique called LASIK surgery on her eyes. She had wanted to do this for some time but has never had the opportunity till then. I, as always, showed myself to be the pillar of strength and stood with her, all the while I can still remember feeling something like a marshmallow that was just about to hit the hot chocolate.

I understood Sally’s desire to see as I do without the aids. She had always had to have her vision corrected; always having to wear glasses or contacts to see the world. I remember worrying for her that it would not be as all she hoped it would be, I worried for her future because of the risk of this type of surgery. I prayed that it will be everything she desired.

In her book about the history of plastic surgery, Holly Brubach wrote:

“I myself subscribe to the notion that by the time you’re 50, you have the face you deserve. . . . After 5 decades of repetitive scowling or laughter or worry, one’s attitude toward life is etched on one’s face.” That’s a vivid reminder that every day we are making a face that tells the world a great deal about us.

This has truly been my attitude toward life and my physical appearance. My body is a testament of my life. The scars and injuries that I have received through the years reveal the pages of that life. The scar over my right eye, the long and detailed scar just above my forehead, both unintentionally delivered by my brother Fred. The surgical scars from operations early in my life, the scars of one battle with life or another which I may have had to repair myself. I was a pretty good seamstress in my earlier days. (Note: It is nice to live in a medical household, you can learn a lot.) The shattered right hand (which ended my career as a concert pianists, yeah), and cracked ribs, separated shoulder, and damage to knees and ankle, which provide me a slight limp at times. These are just add-ons to the list that occurred through my life.

But for Sally this would be a different transition, somewhat like the book “An Anthropologist on Mars”, written by Oliver Sacks which tells about a man named Virgil. Blind from early childhood, Virgil underwent surgery decades later and regained the ability to see. Like the blind man healed by Jesus outside Bethsaida (Mk. 8:22-26), Virgil still had difficulty seeing. Although he could discern movement and color, he couldn’t put images together to make sense of them. For a time, his behavior was still the same as when he was sightless. Sacks comments,

“One must die as a blind person to be born again as a seeing person. It is the interim, the limbo . . . that is so terrible.”

For Sally, this was not the case. She had use corrected lenses for most of her life and knew what life was like, but her world was still different and changed, a miracle and revelation in itself. We are all blessed when we have the sight to see the world as it is.

There are still so many blind men in this world, by that I mean those that are spiritually blind; those that are totally blind and those who see shadows of things, and vague things that sometimes make no sense. There are a great many who cannot see God’s love for them. There are those whose eyes have been opened but their sight remains hazy and unclear. There are those who cannot see the grace of God to them except through the shadows, like men walking around like trees. It is shadowed by pride, lust, envy and complacency and indifference and motivated by the temptations that prevent them from engaging their faith. It lures them deeper into the dark shadows of the world. I feel great sorry for them, because “there is nothing more beautiful than the grace of God who lifts  our eyes from darkness and brings us the light of God’s truth.”

The touch of Jesus is still a glorious thing if we would just open our eyes each day and reach out until what is vague becomes clear and we can see the living God.

Good Day and God Bless.

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