My friend, Sara Glaser, posted this story on her facebook page. I figured she put it there because she wanted me to steal it and share it on this blog….you gotta read it. Great job Sara.
My vision has been bad for awhile. I have had to wear glasses or contacts since I graduated high school. It has never really bothered me, until today when I realized just how bad my vision had become, despite my use of corrective lenses.
We took our little Grace to Childrens hospital for her check up today. I always have mixed feelings as we walk in. On one hand I despise the fact that we have to keep coming back, that stinging reminder that she is not completely healed yet. On the other hand I have this overwhelming sense of gratitude. I am thankful that I am able to hold her hand as she walks beside me into the office and that I am not the mother pushing my child in a wheelchair. Thankful that we are able to stop at the drinking fountain 100 times for sips of water because she is able to eat and drink and she is not that child sitting next to us with the constant drip of a feeding tube. I am thankful that her illness seems trivial in comparison to the majority of the children we pass on the elevator.
As we were waiting for her lab draw, she became preoccupied by a toddler crying in her stroller. She was very curious and was determined to tug me over to the child. I attempted to redirect her again and again, but she was persistent. She was not going to take no for an answer. My heart began to beat faster as we walked across the waiting room towards the child and her mother. I could tell that the girl had serious medical problems and her mother looked exhausted. The girl was thrashing in her stroller and her mother was trying everything to calm her. I looked down at my Grace with her big bow in her hair and a huge smile on her face. I prayed over and over that she would not cause a spectacle of the situation. As we approached them I asked the mother if she minded if we said hello. She invited us over and shared that her daughters name was Alena and that she was 15 months old. As I looked at her I saw a baby girl with notable physical deformities and multiple tubes connected to her that were obviously sustaining her life. I was overcome by grief for this sweet little girl and her family. My Grace peeked over the stroller and grabbed little Alena’s hand. She looked up at me and said “Look Mommy! She is pretty.” I watched as my Grace’s perfect little hand stroked Alena’s deformed hand. She looked back up at me and stated, “Jesus gave her nice hair.” I looked at Alena’s mother who had tears in her eyes. She looked down at Grace and thanked her for coming to say hello. As we turned to walk away, my little Grace ran back to her dad and continued playing. I watched her and Joe as my heart became lodged in my throat. I realized in that moment just how skewed and messed up my vision was. These corrective lenses that I thought were giving me perfect vision, were not helping at all. As I looked at little Alena, I saw tubes and the loom of death as my daughter saw beauty and life. I saw deformity and difference whereas my daughter was oblivious to difference but noticed nice hair.
As we drove home the many stories of Jesus healing the blind kept running through my head. In these scriptures Jesus had healed the physical blindness and given the ability of sight. I realized that I too was in need of that same healing. That despite the fact that I can read a book or drive a car, I too have been blind. I have seen, but not as HE sees. I want to be blinded to the differences that stood out to me today. I long for that child like, innocent vision. That ability to see beyond circumstance. I pray that Jesus removes the scales from my eyes so that all I notice is “nice” hair.