Cloudy Eyes

 

So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come. The old has gone, the new is here! 

2 Corinthians 5:16-17 (NIV)

A wall of fog concealed the lake. Bit by bit, grayness dispersed to reveal the near-by shoreline.  However, a veil of haze produced a fuzzy view of the lake.

            Before eye surgery, cloudy lenses distorted my eyesight. Because cataracts developed over time, I had no idea my contorted vision wasn’t trustworthy. 

            When I had to constantly wear reading glasses and distance views were blurry, I knew I had a problem. An eye exam confirmed cataracts needed to be removed. 

            After my first surgery, the bathroom light glowed like a beacon.  Kitchen lights blazed with a new intensity. 

            With my corrected eye, white shirts glistened. The same shirt with my other eye appeared as a dull beige. I opened and closed one eye at a time to experience the contrast in colors and brilliance. 

            For a few years, cloudiness affected my vision without me realizing it. Only after the removal of the imperfections did I truly understand defects I had lived with. 

            Each person sees the world through a different lens which may be distorted because of life situations. We may not realize our perspective is clouded until the imperfections are removed. 

            But in Jesus, we are new creations with the veil removed. 

Father, thank you for giving us new life and helping us see life through Your eyes. Amen.  

Healing Tears

Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul? Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—soon I’ll be praising again. He puts a smile on my face. He’s my God. Psalm 42:5 (The Message)

Shadowy figures blended together into an immense blur. With one cataract removed, I expected clear vision in my left eye like I had with LASIK surgery several years ago. But I couldn’t read or even work on my computer with a fuzzy reading eye.  

            Watching TV wasn’t easy with one foggy eye. When I tried to close it, my eyelid kept popping open.

            Finally, I positioned myself on the couch with a pillow holding my eye shut. That worked so I could watch a detective program with my distance eye. The cozy pose lulled me to sleep and I missed the end of the show. Thankfully, I could replay the DVD. 

            When the fuzziness didn’t improve, I looked up the side effect on the Internet. The information said it could last for days or weeks. I texted friends who had the surgery to see how they fared. Most didn’t remember much about bleary sight. 

            I wanted the problem solved immediately but knew that wasn’t going to happen so I trudged off to bed. 

            With tape across half of my face to hold the shield in place and my sleep apnea device in my mouth, I laughed at my indistinct image in the mirror. 

            Way before the sun shone into my room, I awoke and wondered if my sight had improved. But my left eye refused to open. Scenarios swirled. Had the eye drops acted like glue? Perhaps infection afflicted me. 

            Reluctantly, I shuffled to the bathroom to assess the problem. My eye opened in slow motion when I removed the tape and eye shield. Instructions from the doctor said to not get the eye wet nor touch it for a week. With clean fingers, I carefully took tiny swipes to wipe off the gooey discharge. 

            Minutes later, I began my morning devotions wearing reading glasses and still not seeing clearly. Instantly, a multitude of tears began washing over my eyes. Grief for Alan not being with me for support. Hope of better vision. Thankfulness for prayers. Sadness for being lonely. Gratitude for friends who bolstered me. Anxiety for not knowing if haziness would remain. Peace from God for all I faced. 

            The tears continued to flow with emotions spilling out. As they slowed, I looked down at the Bible. I felt like shouting and praising God. Without glasses, words were clear for the first time in years. 

            God used tears to cleanse my eyes and heart.  

Loving Father, thank you for being close to us when we are sad, lonely, thankful, anxious, or peaceful. You can take what seems difficult and make it into something priceless. Amen.

  

The Legacy Shirt

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. Galatians 5:22-23 (ESV)

Osceola Senior Games was printed across the top of the blue t-shirt. My eleven-year-old granddaughter, Molly, certainly wasn’t elderly or about ready to graduate but she wore one of my dad’s shirts for a nightgown.

            Although she wore his shirt, she never saw him run track, play basketball or softball. She learned of his sports activities from our family stories.

For years, my dad participated in Senior Games all over the United States. Medals he won covered a wall of his garage and he accumulated a supply of t-shirts from each tournament. When he passed away, several family members kept some of his shirts.

            Even though she didn’t know him like her sisters did, Molly carries on his legacy by wearing his shirt. In addition, she plays softball and basketball like he did. Watching her become more like her great-grandpa makes me happy.

            Although we don’t have a t-shirt that belonged to Jesus, we become more and more like Him when the Holy Spirit works within us. Instead of a physical garment, we can put on the fruit of the Spirit which is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 

            That legacy is even better than a shirt.

Loving Father, help us to put on the righteousness of God as we become more like Jesus. Amen.

Me Selfish??

Another of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, spoke up, “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down (about five thousand men were there).  Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish. When they had all had enough to eat, he said to his disciples, “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted. So they gathered them and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.

John 6:8-13 (NIV)

A breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and fried potatoes awaited church volunteers who ate before or after their serving times. 

            My friend, Mike, and I picked up our plates and waited until the disheveled man in front of us finished heaping food on his plate. He grabbed a ketchup bottle and squeezed a blob onto his food. 

            A week earlier, Mike and I decided we needed ketchup so we were glad someone had brought a bottle of it. 

            When the man started towards the door with the condiment in his hand, I asked, “Is there any more ketchup?”

            His answer shocked me. Without even a glance at me, he said “I bought it.” Then he left with the bottle in hand. 

            We shook our heads. I couldn’t believe his selfishness. I was too stunned to answer. 

            For years, the rumpled man has appeared soon after breakfast is set out. He doesn’t volunteer and rarely talks to anyone. I have never seen him attend a service but he loves the food. 

            When I have tried to engage him in conversation, he ignores me or gives one word. 

            I assumed he was homeless but found out he isn’t and does have a job. 

            All week the scenario played in my mind. Should someone tell him he is selfish? Should we let him continue to be that way? Which would be most helpful? 

             As I pondered his deplorable behavior, God spoke to me about my own attitudes. Am I selfish about my resources and time? Is my time more valuable to me than comforting someone who is grieving? Do I ignore a person who grates on my nerves because I don’t want to waste my time? Are my desires more important than helping a friend in need? Do I avoid a difficult situation because it might be uncomfortable to me? Do I grab ahold of what God has given me and hold tightly? 

            My behavior might not be as blatant as the man at church but selfish just the same. Perhaps our breakfast is the best meal of his week. Maybe he has trouble relating to people and doesn’t know what to say. Hopefully, being at church, seeing Christians who let him have a meal might lead him to Jesus. 

            Alan used to say, “We never know what others are going through.”

            I am glad I didn’t say anything to him because I don’t want to be a barrier to someone accepting and loving Jesus.

            God used the man’s inconsiderate behavior to make me look at myself. 

Lord, you can use all kinds of situations to teach us how we should be living. Thank you for helping me not speak and learning from what I saw. Each day, show me how to be more like you. Amen.

The Yellow Mums

 

God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and love and a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7 (NKJV)

 

Last summer, yellow mums formed a border in front of my shrubs. Their vibrant color even showed up from down the street. 

 

            A few of the plants remained from the previous summer but I purchased more to add to the display. However, I didn’t plant them right away and the next day  discovered that I had Covid. 

 

            For days I shuffled past them on my journey to the mailbox and wondered when I would ever have the strength to dig holes and plant them. A few times I watered the droopy plants which was a major accomplishment. Finally, I had enough energy to get them into the ground before they died. 

 

            After my isolation ended, I made more trips to the store for additional flowers. The cheerful mums warmed my heart and energized my still fatigued body.  For weeks, they gave brightness to my yard and the neighborhood.  

 

            Then yellow buds turned brown. The once gorgeous plants turned to ugly, brown clumps. I wondered if I should just dig them up. 

 

            But within a few weeks, tiny green leaves appeared at the bottom of the brown lumps. After that, tiny yellow blooms joined the foliage. 

 

            Would the new growth overtake the ugliness? When I grew tired of the drabness, my lawn shears cut off much of the deadness. However, unsightly stubs of stems remained but I ignored them for a few days. 

 

            When I could stand it no longer, I sat on the ground by the first flower and used small clippers to remove every dead stem from the new growth. I slid down the row and pruned every plant. The job took much longer than when I used the big shears but the result amazed me. 

 

            My flowers looked new and healthy. Their color lifted my spirits and reminded me that we often have to be pruned too. 

 

            When we prune unhealthy habits, fear, worry and unforgiveness from our lives, we can become more healthy and vibrant too.  

 

Lord, help us get rid of those things that prevent us from living the life you desire for us. Amen.

 An Altered Adventure

June 10, 2020

 

“Grandma, what are we going to do?” ten-year old Molly asked as we settled into my car. 

            The pandemic separated us for months but with restrictions lifting, she had decided to spend the night. After she hugged her mom and put her loaded suitcase in my trunk, our adventure began. 

            “We will get lunch somewhere. I have donations to drop off for a charity.”

            Because it was close to downtown DeLand, I decided to take a closer exit off the interstate than the one near my home.

            “Oh, no. I missed our exit,” I said. We were talking and I noticed my mistake. 

            The next exit was nine miles away.    

            “Grandma, I’m hungry. I didn’t eat much for breakfast.”

            “We’ll get something soon. Think of this as an adventure.”

            Of course, there were only trees as far as we could see. 

When we finally got off the interstate, I had to turn around and get back on the highway. That route took us about a mile from my home. My plan for a shorter trip actually took us longer. 

            “Grandma, we’ve been gone an hour.”

            “Not quite.” I didn’t want to admit it was close to an hour. 

            We finally dropped off the donations and picked up food from a fast food restaurant. At home, we opened the bag. 

            Molly unwrapped a sandwich. “This has lettuce so it must be yours,” she said. 

            She opened another sandwich. “This is chicken.”

            We knew I ordered two hamburgers. “You can have mine.”

            “That’s ok,” she answered. 

            We ate limp fries with our sandwiches. 

            When plans don’t turn out the way we hope, we can whine and brood or accept the disruptions and go on. 

            Molly and I laughed at the missed exit and ate our less than perfect lunch. We were just happy to be together for our adventure. 

            I was thankful for Molly’s enthusiasm and acceptance of our unexpected experiences. 

Loving Father, during the pandemic, we have had many changes, losses and trials. Help us accept our disruptions graciously as just another adventure. Amen.

            

            

            

The Retreat in New Hampshire

 

 The plans of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from Yahweh. All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but Yahweh weighs the motives. Proverbs 16:1-2 (WEB)

 

Heavy, gray clouds blocked all traces of an anticipated sunrise over the mountains. Rain pattered on the roof of the hotel’s veranda. Clouds swept over the tops of the mountains and reduced them to hills. 

 

            A collection of trees filled the valley and crept up the mountains. Tall evergreens hovered over golden, amber and brown trees. Bare white birch stood at attention along the edge. Together they formed a picturesque but muted forest in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I hoped to see an infusion of brilliant colors all over the mountains but rain days earlier caused leaves to drop and dim. 

 

            For two days rain kept me inside the grand, historic hotel with only views of the expansive grounds. Although my experience didn’t meet my expectations of vibrant, autumn colors, the cooler weather and subdued colors provided a welcome change from warm and green Florida. I marveled at God’s creation so different from my lake view.

 

            From my seat on the long porch, I noticed a stream that emerged from the woods and rushed along the rocky banks. Mist slipped down the mountains and obscured more of the forest. Peacefulness settled over me as I watched the changing view. 

 

            After my bout of covid, the Asbury Seminary Retreat provided peace and healing for me. Speakers from the seminary spoke to my heart. Wonderful music soothed my soul. I enjoyed meeting interesting, new friends. 

 

            I had prayed to know who should get the books I packed in my suitcase. My grief ministry expanded as I heard stories of loss from other participants. I gave out three books for those who had recently lost loved ones.

 

            Although my expectations for vibrant fall colors didn’t materialize, the subtle beauty of the mountains and countryside supplied serenity and a time for contemplation. 

 

            Throughout life, plans change and hopes are dashed. Instead of lamenting over losses, embrace new opportunities and see what surprises God has planned.   

 

Heavenly Father, when my plans are thwarted, you know what lies ahead and can turn it into something good. Amen.