RIGHT BEFORE YOUR EYES

365 Days of Thanksliving — Day 112

As I get further along in this journey of daily gratitude, I’ll be honest: some days it’s a challenge. You start hunting for something "new" to be thankful for, or you try to find a different angle on a familiar blessing, and suddenly you’re squinting at the world trying to find the inspiration.

It’s a bit like those frantic moments when you’re tearing the house apart looking for your readers, only to realize they’ve been sitting on top of your head the entire time. Sometimes, the thing you’re supposed to see—the very thing you should be grateful for—is literally right before your eyes.

Or, in my case today, it is what’s before my eyes. Specifically, my glasses.

Growing up, I thought I had escaped the family "curse." My dad, my brother and sister, all wore glasses or contacts for as long as I could remember. My mom, on the other hand, had perfect vision. I figured I took after her. It wasn’t until much later in her life that her vision started to dim, which I suppose is just par for the course as the calendar pages turn.

I didn't realize my own vision was slipping until after my freshman year of college. I remember sitting halfway back in a massive auditorium, straining my eyes just to make out the chicken scratch on the chalkboard. For some reason, I just assumed that was normal. I didn't mention it to my parents because I didn't know there was any other way to see the world.

The "moment of truth" didn't actually come until May 1988. I’d joined the Navy and was processed through boot camp. As they do with every recruit, they checked my vision, and the verdict was in: I needed help. They issued me a pair of those legendary military-standard "birth control" glasses. If you’ve ever seen them, you know they were aptly named—thick, brown, and hideously utilitarian. Woof!

But as ugly as those frames were, they changed everything. For the first time in years, the world had sharp edges again.

I was thinking about that this morning during our council meeting. My eyes were hurting—partly from being tired, and partly because my lenses probably needed a thorough cleaning. But even through the slight strain, I felt a wave of thankfulness.

We often take for granted the tools that allow us to navigate our lives with clarity. Whether it’s a pair of high-tech progressives or a simple pair of drug-store readers, corrective lenses are a gift. They allow us to read the Word, to see the faces of our loved ones, and to appreciate the details of the world around us that we might otherwise miss.

King Solomon wrote about the importance of vision. He said,

“Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law.”

Solomon, of course, was speaking of seeing with the eyes of one’s heart versus the eyes on one’s face. Still, the metaphor rings out. Even Jesus opened the eyes of the blind so they could see the wonders of God’s creation—a gift scripture reminds us shouldn’t be taken for granted.

Today, I’m not looking for a hidden blessing. I’m thanking God for the one perched right on the bridge of my nose.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for giving me eyes to see, and the corrective lenses to see clearly. Whether we need corrective lenses or not, open the eyes of all our hearts, so that we may behold the wondrousness of Christ Jesus our Lord.