March 16, 2005

stairwell accompaniment: The Postal Service- Clark Gable

Indian food with my parents and Josh this past weekend. Conversation led my mom’s narration for Josh the story about when I was first prescribed glasses. A funny story that I don’t often appreciate enough.
When I was eleven years old my mom and I discovered that I could not read the digital clock from a few feet away. I say that “we” discovered it but it was not at all revealed in the same light for the two of us. My mom’s thoughts probably went something like this: Oh my goodness, my daughter has been living her life half-blind! What a horrible mother I am! My thoughts, on the other hand, were more along these lines: Of course I can’t see the clock from here! That’s absurd! But if I take just three steps forward and squint a little, it all becomes clear! I had, in fact, been living life very blurred.
I remember the day I walked out of the doctor’s office with my first pair of glasses. I not only remember that day today–I will forever remember that day. My world was changed completely.
On the ride home alone…Realization #1: My entire life everyone else has been able to see leaves on the trees rather than indescript green blobs hanging over a tall brown trunks. No one ever told me. Realization #2: When a lawn is freshly mowed, there are lines in the yard where the cutting has taken place. No one ever told me. Realization #3: Clouds do exist. Not just in science books. I completely missed the childhood activity of assigning identities to uniquely shaped clouds. No one ever told me. Realization #4: No one else squints. I look like an idiot. No one ever told me. Realization #5: When watching t.v. you don’t have to guess who’s talking by their hand movements. Their mouths move. No one ever told me.
This was all day one of corrective lenses.
And for every day I complain about dry contacts or glasses I don’t particularly think work as an accessory for me…I remember the details.

I thought of this blessing on Sunday evening. Josh and I were sitting in the emporium enjoying a warm beverage. My back was to the window. He breaks conversation to demand that I turn around to see out the window. God’s gift of pink in the sky. The most amazing sunset in the backdrop of a moving train, city traffic, tall buildings and a beautifully mild evening. We stood outside on the corner of the cobblestone road until the pink was no longer evident. I wondered what it would be like for me to not see a glimpse God’s face on the brightly-colored lining of the clouds in the ebb of a setting sun. I am blessed with sight.
I read that God has clothed the flowers of the field in undeniable beauty, and He has cared for and made us even more intricately ravishing. Is it even possible that God could create a sunset so magnificent and still think of me as worthy and beautiful?


2 Responses to “rocketship”

  1. b said

    can sun set’s sit in his arms, or make him smile?

  2. Kristi said

    Hmm…someone else and I were also silenced by that very pinkishsunset as well on Sunday night over the coffee we never ended up getting ;o) *grin*

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