Friday, February 24, 2012

Moments of Blindness and Sight.

I almost don't remember not wearing glasses. I was only seven years old when I picked out my first pair and could finally see the world. I remember the awe I felt as I saw the leaves on the trees and the lines on the road. My mom says I read every sign along the road out loud joyfully. Even signs at Taco Bell and the Shell Station were a thrill to my heart. The wonder of seeing actual people and things rather than a blur was overwhelming.

As you can see, my different pairs of glasses were all so fashionable and hip. I believe the pair on the far left were my first...and if it wasn't blurry, the right picture would show the duct tape holding together that pair of glasses. I've always been a classy lady. 

So, why all the talk of glasses? Why the hilarious pictures of me growing up? (You must understand, dear reader, how much I care for you to share my awkward stages with you.) You see, the phrase "Hindsight is 20-20" has really been standing out to me lately. Every time I take out my contacts, I stand in that moment of almost blindness and think about how I make decisions in that place everyday. That simple part of my routine has become poignant to me, as I consider the times where I spoke too soon, jumped in too fast, or cared too much. I don't regret those moments, but I do wonder how I missed the warning signs of the impending problems. Whether it be a lost relationship or a poor choice of words, I can see clearly where I mis-stepped when looking back on it...and every time I see that mistake, I wonder why I didn't see. How could I have missed the blatantly flashing lights, warning me of the pain and sorrow to come? How could I have ignored the counsel of friends who know me better than I know myself? How could I not have seen?

I tweeted yesterday, "Cutting ties is freeing, but I'm left with a piece in my hand, alone, wondering what I have done." Even now, with my twenty-twenty vision of my past, my ability to see through the manipulation and the emotions that reigned over my wisdom, I am tangled up in these moments of blindness. Though I have the glasses of Truth, for some reason I choose to remove them, and relive the past as though I cannot see the purpose behind the happenings. Even the pain has a great purpose. Am I glad for it? No, not yet. I am not ready to be joyful in that suffering. But I am glad for the vision I have in Christ. The gift of seeing Him in all the painful moments covers up any scars that remain.

You see, the truth is found in the simple words of an old hymn: "Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the Light of His Glory and Grace." This is why the pain is minimized and the gain of wisdom is magnified. This is why the benefits are obvious while the scars are covered up. This is why I can clearly see bits of the good and glory from the painful parts of the past. As if through incredibly powerful glasses, I see Christ...and those are some glasses I don't ever want to take off.

PS. Please look to the right sidebar and note how I have grown out of the awkward stages featured in this post. Thanks! ;)

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