Lights in the Darkness

     I thought it would be a foregone conclusion that my blog entry would be about me getting my new eyeglasses. I got them on Thursday and they were very disorienting at first, but it’s getting better. I wish I had gotten bifocals like the doctor suggested to me. My glasses are off now as I type this, but if I want to turn away from the computer to speak to anyone, I will want the glasses. Anything 18 inches or closer is out of focus with the glasses and fine without.

     I grabbed onto something else to write about though. It’s still along the lines of vision and sight. I was teaching Sunday school as usual. I teach the object lesson where I bring in an everyday object and tell a story about a person from history who models Biblical values. I don’t write the lesson. The curriculum is good, but I have to adjust it for to fit the 4^th graders, then the 1^st graders, and finally the 2^nd and 3^rd graders. Sometimes as I teach I see what the kids latch onto and try to impress the point that they get the best. It was just so good this time I wanted to share it.

     I brought my flashlight and told the story of Florence Nightingale. “The Lady with the Lamp” was a light to people in darkness. Back when hospitals could make people sicker for being there, patients were comforted and ministered to by her. I asked the kids, “Why would I need to carry a flashlight? What do we need it for?” The kids answered the easy question with easy answers. You need a light to see when it’s dark. I tried to get them to understand that a light is to guide us. I use it so I don’t bump into furniture in a dark room. But it doesn’t just show me the way, it provides security.

I didn’t bother to tell the kids about a time I was lost in some trees at night or a time I was walking through the underground labyrinth beneath Castle Hill in Budapest. Those were two very scary times of my life. Utter darkness is terrifying when I don’t know what’s there. Just like when I got my new eyeglasses, things appeared just a little wrong and for the first day I felt panicky. Darkness is the same. I’m not afraid of the dark, but there is an inescapable uneasiness when there is an unfamiliar darkness.

The kids I was teaching didn’t need to be reminded that the dark can be scary. So they knew how essential a flashlight is. Then I told them the day’s Bible Verse:

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. Matthew 5:16 KJV

I was getting it as I was teaching it. I was getting excited. “Do you know what?” I said. “Jesus says that YOU are lights.” The kids reacted in surprise. “That doesn’t mean you light up like my flashlight,” I continued. “You don’t glow in the dark…” a girl interrupted to share how her brother once was covered in glow-in-the-dark paint.

“That’s not what Jesus means when he says that you are a light.” I explained. “Now remember, why do we have lights?” I held my flashlight and the kids chimed about being able to see in the dark.

“So,” I said. “If Jesus says that you are a light, what does that mean? Jesus says you’re a light, what are we supposed to do then?”

Hands twitched but the kids just pondered. Finally one little girl raised her hand. I called on her and she said:

“We are supposed be a light to show people Jesus.”

I had her say it again and the whole class murmured in understanding.

I flopped down in my chair and thanked her. I thanked the whole class actually. I had twelve 2^nd and 3^rd graders. And at that moment I couldn’t think about anything but how 12 little lights were shining in that room.

Yes, kids are inheriting a violent and unpromising world. Like being lost in the dark without a light, some of us are stumbling in confusion with no direction, just panic. Even those like me who are supposed to have seen the light can be afraid and discouraged. I just had to share this. There is light out there. It’s not at the end of the tunnel. That light is inside us and inside those among us. We are the light of the world and are called on to shine and glorify God. And sometimes when it’s so very dark, a small light will be a beacon of hope.

See what's clear

     I knew long before I was told. I had known for a long time. I was finally compelled to face it, literally.  I got my driver license renewal in the mail and made an appointment to go to the DMV and renew. Deep down I wondered if I would manage to pass the test. Not a road test, thank God I don’t have to do that again. And I wasn’t so concerned about the written test either. I figured I could study up on what the speed limit is approaching an unregulated railroad crossing. I know that a pedestrian is second nothing as far as right of way and even though you want to sound your horn and teach them a lesson, that isn’t the correct answer. I figured I would be able to pass the written test. I was concerned about the eye test.

     For the past year or so, Prajna has said to me: “You can’t read that?” Well, no I couldn’t. And the thing is I don’t remember when the road signs became a little blurry. But my weakening vision never seemed to be a hindrance. Even driving, Prajna could read the street signs. If I was alone, no-one would be annoyed if I had to pass the sign before reading it and then turn around. And what was a little blurry vision anyway? It wasn’t like I was blind. I could still tell that something was there and wouldn’t hit anything.

     My appointment came. At the DMV I was not able to read the top line. I leaned against the viewfinder and looked in like a scientist searching for infinitesimal signs of anything. The letters all looked like fuzzy dots. I raised my eyebrows, frowned, squinted, and finally admitted I couldn’t read it. The lady asked me to read the next one down. I couldn’t read that one either. My right eye was finally able to read a line, but my left eye reached the 5^th line before I read, or guessed correctly.

     The lady gave me a conditional pass. There wasn’t any actual condition on it. But we both knew what had to happen. I had my picture taken with the same lopsided expression I’ve had for the last three license pictures and did not have to take any written test.

     There was no denying anymore that I needed something to correct my vision, eyeglasses. And the thing that’s funny, and a little scary is this: Once I stopped denying that I indeed needed glasses, things got a lot worse. A few days later in a store I realized how much trouble I had with the signs labeling the aisles. If I was looking down at a book and then looked up and tried to see, it was almost disorienting.

So I went to Walmart’s optometrist thinking they took walk-ins. When I was told no and had to make an appointment a week later, I left the store in a haze. Everything looked like something depicted in a cheap sci-fi movie where light speed is achieved, all distant and smeared. The thought that I had to wait another week seemed impossible. My appointment is today. I don’t know how long it will take to get the lenses made. But Prajna helped me pick out some frames.

     It is interesting that once I stepped out of denial, the situation did not get better, but more urgent. Denial is like a wonderfully warm comforter that I can wear when it’s freezing outside. But to extend the metaphor, I am wrapped in the comforter and it’s outside, nailed to the frozen ground. The temperature is slowly dropping and the comforter stays warm, but I’m still outside and will surely freeze to death eventually. So I stand up and shake off the comforter. Suddenly the cold hits like an icy ocean wave. Now there is a sense of urgency that I have to do something. And I think I can stretch this metaphor just a little further without compromising it.

     I’m standing in the freezing cold next to a blanket that I shook off and I have to get warm. But there is no indoor shelter. The only place there is to go is a group of people who have also shed their blankets and are standing in a huddle close enough to each other that they are keeping one other warm and alive. I have to admit that I have to ask for help and join them if I want to be warm and live.

     I don’t know how much of my denial of my failing eyesight was actually life or death. But my denial in the past has kept me from seeking help when I needed it. Denial, no matter how trivial is not healthy for me. So I’m getting eyeglasses.

     Longer than Prajna has been asking “You can’t read that?” I have been asking her: “What did they say?” Yes, I have failing hearing too. One issue at a time. It’s scary to come out and admit that on my blog that corrective hearing may be next. I want to deny that too. It’s such a comfortable state of mind that I want to go back and delete this last paragraph. If you’re reading it, I managed not to. For now, if you’re speaking to me, please be clear and aim to my right ear.