Something’s wrong. I can see clearly.

This was my grandmothers clock.  It has been by our bedside for twelve years.  If I squint my eyes just right, I can make out what time it is.  Yes, I do realize it has exremely large numbers.  I have bad vision.  Really bad.  Without my contacts or glasses I am in a blurry fog.  In fact if my six foot something husband and my not quite four foot son were at the opposite end of the room, I couldn’t distinquish between them.  Now you have all the information you need to hear my story!

A few mornings ago when I woke up, I knew something was wrong.  I sat up in bed trying to discern what it was.  Couldn’t put my finger on it.  After a few minutes, I got up still puzzling on what was off.  About half way to the bathroom I figured it out!  I can see clearly!  I stood for a moment.  After evaluating and quickly discarding that a miracle had occurred, I recalled that I had fallen asleep reading .  With my contacts in.

That was it with that story.  Until God does what he so often does with me.  When I make space he will bring back to mind a Scripture, an event, a word someone has spoken.  As it marinates it is as if God holds up a magnifying glass.  I see new things.  I learn more about my soul.  I learn more about my Father.

On this occasion I reflected on the typical routine of waking up in the morning.  On those mornings that I don’t sleep in my contacts.  I can walk from our bedroom to the bathroom without any problem.  Even though I can’t clearly see my way, I have grown accustomed to the path.  I can also make it into our son’s room without seeing.  For those times of scary dreams or hurting tummy.  It doesn’t occur to me that I can’t see.  Blurry is my normal.  So much so that when I do see clearly it throws me for a curve.

It is just these few moments in the morning.  Just this narrow path where I function without seeing.  Most of my day I see clearly.  I wouldn’t cook in this blurry state. I’d either catch myself on fire or harm those eating.   I’d never drive my car.  And if I tried to type you would be reading garble.   Those are all in my ‘see clearly’ zone.

You probably see where I’m going.  Thinking about this brings me to asking God, “where are my blind spots?”  Where do I function in a fog?  And not only that, where are the places that I have become so use to, that I don’t recognize I’m blind.  The places where if I saw clearly it would throw me.  Of course the challenge is that if they are blind spots, they are by definition hard for us to see.  I don’t have answers.  I don’t yet know what God might be wanting me to discover in this.

I do know a few places I can go to find out.  The first of course is asking him.  Trusting that he will reveal the places that are keeping me from knowing him more fully.  Being confident that he will want me to know if there is something that is effecting me as a wife and a mother.  He doesn’t want to play guessing games.  He wants his name to be known and if I’m hindering that by my short sightedness, he will help.  If I invite more grace into my life, he will provide it.

The second place is community.   A community where I let others know me, really know me.  Having others in my life who even when they really know me- still love me.  It gives me perspective, a clearer vision.  A community who wants me to be who I’m made to be.  No, more than just wanting me to be myself, will invest in it.  The ones who will be courageous enough and loving enough to say, you don’t see this, but I do.

And I hope that this online place can be a glimpse of that.  Of sharing our lives.  Of sharing our experiences of God.  Of letting others celebrate who we are.  Of people encouraging us in our blind spots.  Because my blind spot will be a place where you see clearly.  I know that doesn’t happen overnight.  Nor without knowing a space is safe and trustworthy.  My prayer is that it grows into that.  And that together our “love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight in order that we may discern what is best.”  Because when we are discerning what is best (not just good from bad), all the fogginess lifts.

Lastly, to close on a completely random note.  I have to tell you that a song has been in mind since I started reflecting on this a couple of days ago.  “I can see clearly now the rain has gone.  I can see all obstacles in my way.”  While the lyrics are actually fitting, I’d rather it not be constantly running thourgh my brain.   Are you singing it now?