I remember when I was in labor for Sylvia. I was getting an epidural (my first, with my last child) and I was terrified of damage happening to my spine. I was more afraid of that than I was the pain of childbirth. So it was time, I'm in the fetal position, and the anesthetist says,"on the next contraction hold REALLY still." Yeah, right. I had a contraction, and he put the needle in my spine. It felt like a bee sting, as promised. I got so scared, that I squeezed my eyes shut super tight. For a split second I thought,"OH DEAR GOD... I'M BLIND!!!!"
I realized my mistake, and started laughing at myself right out loud. I tried to explain to those around me what was so funny, but they just didn't fully appreciate it. I think you have to experience ACTUALLY BELIEVING that you are blind to see the gravity in that situation.
I didn't fully understandd the message of that event until today. I can't tell you how many times I have had my eyes squeezed shut so hard that I fear I'm blind. I found myself in the middle of an unhappy marriage, in the fetal position thinking, "OH DEAR GOD, I'M BLIND! I can't see what is right. I can't see what to do next." The truth is that I'm too afraid to look at the scary thing I need to do. I'm afraid to change, so I don't want to look and see that I can't stay here like this. I don't want to see how our dysfunction is hurting my kids, and it has to stop. But then, with the help of a good counselor, I got the courage to unsquinch my eyes a little, and I could see light and shadows. I could make out the light of my boys, and the shadows of our unhappiness. Then I got brave enough to just peek a little, and I saw the ugly truth. Next thing I know, there I was with my eyes wide open making the hard choices that lead to a happier life for all of us.
When it was time for Jordan to graduate and go off to the Army, I was there again. Rolled up in a ball thinking, "OH DEAR GOD, I'M BLIND! My baby is grown and leaving and I can't bear to watch! All of the choices I've made for the last 19 years revolved around the safety and care of this child (and ALL of my children). I'm afraid to be something other than Jordan's Mom. I don't know how to be without him." God bless the counselors. I unsquinched my eyes just a little. Just enough to catch a glimpse of him in his cap and gown. Then I peeked just enough to watch him raise his hand and pledge to protect the freedoms of our country. Soon I stood with my eyes wide open (wet and teary, but open) and watched him graduate from boot camp. He's all married and family-fied now. His wife is a blessing, and I don't worry about him nearly as much as I used to. I can see him clearly now, making the music he loves. He gets to move all over the country and meet interesting people. He's even a good Dad. I was just too afraid to look.
I find it interesting that when I get too scared to look, I THINK I'm blind, but it's a self-imposed blindness. I have the ability to see the whole time, it's just too much to look at. Sometimes I don't want to see, if seeing means making a difficult change. Maybe that's the kind of blindness that Jesus came to heal.
I've only really been blind once. After my cardiac arrest, I couldn't see for a while. (Could have been hours, could have been overnight. I'm not sure.) I tried to open my eyes REALLY wide, but I really couldn't see. I couldn't see while I was unconscious, either. Or maybe I could and can't remember it. Maybe as I was laying there, being God's beloved child, I was crying out, "OH DEAR GOD, I'M BLIND! I don't know how to die, and I don't know how to survive! I'm afraid to stay with you and I'm afraid to leave you." I don't remember thinking that at that time, but I certainly struggled with it afterward, while I was "recovering". But with a lot of prayer, I unsquinched my eyes a little. I could see the light of God's love, and the shadows of a life I left on the salon floor. I peeked out enough to read the words of Saint Augustine, telling me that God hasn't shown me all there is to see yet, but that the One who made the promises will keep his promises. He promised to heal the blind. I pray he heals our blindness.
How are you blind? What is it you choose not to see? What is it you can't see, because it tears you up inside and breaks your heart? Give it back to God. Pray for his healing, take a deep breath and unsquinch just a little. Start out looking for the light and shadows. When you are ready, peek. Maybe you aren't really blind, but just scared. He'll hold your hand. Before you know it, you'll be living with your eyes wide open, seeing past the scary part and into the blessing part. My eyes are open wide today. I'm soaking up all the blessings I can get. I know I'll get to that scary place again, but I'm trusting He'll heal my blindness again and again and again.
Blessings!
Thanks!
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