Devotion 309 - Eyes

We sat in the theater, just the six of us.  Of all the beautiful memories we have from this Christmas I knew this one would remain with me.  The children had asked to invite a dozen or so friends but we wanted a few moments more, just the six of us, a rarity now that we have a college student.

Ava sat next to me.  She grabbed my hand well before the movie began and held it over her eyes.  



She said, “remember Mama if it gets scary, cover my eyes.”  We learned this lesson from the ice monster in Frozen. 

She practiced once or maybe twice.  I reminded her that I didn't think this movie was scary; she reminded me that I had said the same thing about Frozen.

 

The theater darkened and the previews began, my mind traveled back as I watched Ava settle with my hand in hers.  Just yesterday we had all been under the tree.  Each gift that Ava opened she would respond with the words, “I can’t believe my eyes!”  

At first her words were not clear but with the second gift and then the third, we were sure what she was saying.  The words seemed older than her four years.  Every gift no matter how small or large, the same response as if everything was too good to be true.  There was a sweetness about it I wanted to somehow bottle. 

Hours later as the house lay quiet, I boxed boxes and recycled wrap.  A few were napping others playing and I grabbed Ava’s journal to record the moment.

Strange   -  the idea of sight. 

I wondered again from where her words had come.

Matthew 6 tells us,  “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!”

In the ancient days, it was thought light came from within out, hence Matthew warns what is inside frames what we see.  I wondered what Ava has inside that caused her amazement.  I believe this is the first Christmas she will remember.  Have we filled her with Santa Claus or somewhere in there will she also remember her Savior?

I sat in my living room as I wrote, looking at my Nativity.  There were some that saw the Savior and still did not believe.  




There were some that were so frightened by his sight, they crucified Him.  With what eyes do I see, with what do I fill my mind such that I frame my focus?

I have spent days, perhaps weeks too busy for the Word, and I have seen how darkness ushers out the light.

I have spent moments so filled with fear that I cannot see His steadying hand of faithfulness.  And I have spent weeks so certain of my own strength I have not sought His wisdom and seen life as a white knuckled roller coaster – something to be braced, instead of embraced.

Do we see life through the lens of unemployment or unfairness or unwellness?  Or do we see life with the lens of the Provider, the Judge and the Healer.

I, like Ava, often want to cover my eyes.  I blind my own self to the gifts of Him.  I want to turn from the ugly and uncover for the beautiful, but He resides in it all, if we focus.

I want to go into the New Year seeing it as a year I cannot believe, not because of its blessings, although I know they will be there too, but because of His presence.

I want to greet the year with hunger, seeking, thirsting, ready to open this gift called life and find Him in the small, unopened moments of the day.

I want to cherish the nothing because He makes it something and push aside the blinding light of the urgent for the seeing eye of the seeker.

I want to seek extraordinary in the ordinary, joy in the mundane and peace in the busy.

 

I want to see with His creation as my focus, touch with His hands on my heart, and hear with His Word echoing through my ears.

I want to believe my eyes.

“I who am blind can give one hint to those who see:  Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind.  And the same method can be applied to the other senses.  Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow.  Touch each object as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail.  Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never smell and taste again.  Make the most of every sense; glory in the beauty which the world in all the facets of pleasure reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides.  But of all the senses, I am sure that sight is the most delightful.” 

~ Helen Keller