God's Vision

In just the past few days, my beloved dog, Sister Mary Thunder, has gone fully blind from diabetes. I've known for a bit that she was starting to lose her vision and then, there just came this moment when it was suddenly, completely gone. 

It is an adjustment we are still trying to make. 

But it has put a new perspective on a verse that I had marked to write about this week. 

The verse is in Proverbs 29:13, and the message is that God has given eyes to everyone, that all may see. In other words, God wasn't hiding anything from His creation; He's given us all we need to behold Him in the world. 

As I sit here with my newly-blind best friend curled up at my feet, I can't help but think about those without eyes. Those whose eyes don't work. Yes, there is a physical blindness, and that is a big part of where my thoughts are. But there are other things in this broken world that make our eyes not work. 

Trauma, for example. Trauma can blind us to seeing the goodness of God. Poverty, for another. When you're giving everything you've got every day just to have not enough, it can really limit the way you see things. Physical illness. Grief. Loss. Betrayal. Abuse. There are all kinds of things in this world that were never meant to be here, and they have this way of taking our eyes away from us. Making it so that we cannot see, even though God has, indeed, given us eyes. 

Sister Mary Thunder has other things that can guide her through this world. Her sense of smell is still one of her favorites; it takes us a bit longer now to walk the same sidewalks we've walked her whole life, simply because she has to slow down and get her bearings through her nose. Her ears also still work. The other day, she didn't see the squirrel cross right in front of her, but as soon as it touched a branch, that branch bent just enough to make a small noise, and my blind girl took off after it, like maybe today was the day she'd finally catch one. 

But perhaps the greatest advantage my now-blind best friend has...is me. I have become for her a still, small voice. A voice of calm. A voice that sees what she no longer can. I talk to her constantly while we are walking now, even though the sidewalks are familiar to her. For example, Thursday was trash day for part of our trail, so I had to tell her there were trash cans blocking the path and give her a little tug to go around them. She stumbles a bit and struggles to walk in a straight line, so I have to tell her there's a curb there or a step. When the storms knock a tree branch down, I tell her that we have to go another way. 

God has given us eyes to see, yes, but they aren't just physical eyes, and we aren't just talking about physical sight. God has given us all of the tools that we need to behold Him in the world - five senses, to grasp a fullness that our eyes alone could not give us. Things to help us keep our bearings when in one way or another, our world goes dark. In the grips of trauma, when you cannot see, perhaps it is a smell that sets you free. Or in poverty, maybe a sound. You just never know. 

But perhaps the greatest gift God has given us...is the Holy Spirit. That still, small voice that becomes our eyes when we cannot see. That tells us what's ahead and where we are and how to navigate a world that seems to have gone dark. It talks to us constantly, guiding and tugging on us to keep us on the path. 

That we may witness, in one way or another, the goodness and glory of God.