I’m writing this at 200%, because my vision is failing me. Each day it becomes more difficult, but I am beginning to accept whatever happens as God’s will. I’m very fortunate to be able to type without looking at the keys.
Yesterday, I met my Ophthalmologist ― for the life of me, I can’t spell that word without Spell-Check! Anyhow, he is young, very young, and he looks younger. He is so young that I had an incredible urge to reach out and burp him. He is so young, that I was sorry I didn’t bring him a coloring book and crayons. He was so young, that he forgot manners and respect. I can honestly say that his respect was reserved for himself, and his knowledge.
He could not tell me what is in my eye that is taking away my vision. To be fair, he actually said he wasn’t qualified; so tomorrow, Thursday, March 13, I will be seeing a Retina Specialist, who will give me a dye job (just in my veins, of course). This will enable him to see what is wrong. I’m praying for something that I can do to help myself, like a more restrictive diet.
I’ve done a lot of searching on the internet, avoiding those sites that are a little creepy…you know, the sites that tell you they have a cure-all for what ails you, like fruit juice and ground peach pits. No thanks. Still, the medical sites that I visited, did not give me comfort. Today is a much better day. I am not so afraid.
What if I do lose my sight? Will I still be able to “see?” I think I will.
Tears in a Bottle
I have memorized every sunset,
And I have collected the rosy dawn.
All of my tears are in His bottle
And in my heart, I behold His Son.
My husband’s eyes are green and smiling,
And his touch is soft on my skin.
Jesus’ love always surrounds me,
I can be proud of the body I’m in.
Oh how I miss the scent of my garden,
For that sense is gone from me too;
But I can see in my trembling spirit
Every petal, curve, and hue.
I kneel helpless, before my Savior
As my body betrays me now;
But I will trust He knows the answer,
With stubborn faith I can accept somehow.
I’m sure He’ll tell me why this happened,
Perhaps in just an eon or two;
Then He’ll reveal my tears in His bottle;
He’ll say, “Jaye, My garden is you.”
© Jaye Lewis, 2008
The great Christian writer, C.S. Lewis, said that perhaps we were not meant for happiness. He looked at suffering as a blow from God’s hammer and chisel, chipping away at the stone of our lives, and making something new of what is left. I could not disagree more.
While it is true that just as I get beyond one suffering, another seems to be waiting in the wings, there has been much happiness in my life, and there still is. What if suffering is a process that is difficult, but purposeful? What if my obedience and disappointment are the shovel and hoe of my heavenly garden? What if, when we suffer, we are actually creating something both beautiful and unseen? Perhaps if we are very still, we can hear God’s answer, as He creates in us His garden of love?
Just in case you are wondering if this message is from a holy person, let me reassure you. Yesterday, on the way home, I was very angry with God, and after four years without sugar, I was looking desperately for a donut shop. I didn’t find one, but I was hoping. God puts up with me, even then.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008