My bathroom counter is covered in an assortment of accessories: eyeglasses, earrings, and bangle bracelets bearing quippy quotes. The glasses I wear as a headband more often than I use them to adjust my sight. They’re tossed sink-side at the end of the day when I pull my hair into a ponytail.
As I removed my contact lenses during my bedtime routine recently, I glanced the pile of glasses and considered the ways they help me see.
The readers allow me to enjoy Harry Potter books with my daughters. My doctor-prescribed pair helps me see at a distance, for example the TV screen or the clock across the room, when I don’t want to wear my contacts. Sunglasses shield my eyes so I can drive safely and more comfortably.
I have long required some sort of assistance to see. An eye doctor prescribed my first specs when I was in the 8th grade. They were enormous and aqua-green, and I can’t believe my mother allowed me to pick such an egregious pair.
I digress.
In high school I began to wear contact lenses. My eye health remained relatively neutral until I neared middle-age. When I turned 42 my eyes demanded readers to, well, read.
Then, after registering high pressure in my eyes for more than half of my life, I was diagnosed with glaucoma. The optic nerve in my left eye shows deterioration so my doctor monitors it every 3-6 months. There’s no real concern of vision loss, thankfully, as long as I abide by her instructions.
Glasses, contact lenses and eye drops keep my physical sight in acceptable health. Spiritual vision is not maintained as easily. My outlook has tendency to fix on what needs to be done today, not on why it will matter 10 years from today. True vision, I suppose, is found in balancing the two.
My daddy tried to teach me this. He connected my eyes to my heart, recognizing one would influence the other, and wrote often to tell me so.
“May your vision both physical and spiritual always be clear and your heart focused on God.” (September 9, 1995)
“Keep your vision clear and your heart open.” (July 24, 1996)
“I hope that the problems you are having go away or get move to somewhere else. But don’t let it blur your vision or hinder you from reaching your goals. Smooth seas never made a skillful sailor. Overcoming obstacles build character and strength in your confidence.” (September 22, 1998)
“Keep your eye upon the path and your heart tune to God.” (May 21, 1999)
“Keep your eyes open – guard your heart – do not be deceived.” (Undated)
Eyes and heart. I don’t need glasses to see the connection now.
Daddy also reminded me regularly that he could see things I could not. Now, as a parent, I understand.
“Watch where you’re going!” is a familiar phrase to my daughters, though it’s meant with the most literal intentions. Scooting the sidewalk so they are aware of cars. Walking a store aisle so they don’t bump other customers. Climbing the stairs at home with eyes on their iPad instead of where their feet are stepping.
I’m pretty sure the only impact my words have on their eyes right now is when they roll them at me. I wonder if my daddy felt the same.
One meaningful-to-me Bible verse about vision is recited in my favorite musical, The Sound of Music. I watched it on VHS many times as a teenager, relying on my enormous aqua-green glasses to see the TV perched on top of the chest of drawers in my bedroom.
As the Von Trapp family is executing their secret escape over the Alps, Mother Abbess tells them:
“Remember: ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.” (Psalm 121:1)
My Bible translates “hills” to “mountains.” The word stirs specific images in my mind’s eye, no glasses, contact lenses or eyedrops required.
Majesty.
Grandeur.
God.
The difficult days we are living have certainly directed my vision “unto the hills.” But really, I don’t have to look that far to find my Help.
He is always close.
Even at a bathroom counter covered in an assortment of accessories.
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.”
(Psalm 121:1)
