Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Glasses I can't quite see through...

About a month ago I broke my glasses. I thought it wouldn't be too bad because I had a spare pair. Then I remembered that, to save a few bucks two years ago, I had new lenses added to existing frames, so the spare was four years old. Clearly (pardon the pun) not the correct prescription, and definitely not glare protected. Also, the progressive lens is not uniform, so I have to tilt my head to the side to see even close to clearly with both eyes at once, which leaves me with a constant head and neck ache. I still read, but it's harder, and often one-eyed. Insurance won't cover a new pair until January so I'm making do. And if my makeup looks a bit wonky, well...please just understand. Most things are a little blurry all the time.

I know this doesn't seem related, but hold on. I'll tie it all together in the end. I promise! On October 12, 2013, my husband, Lloyd, fell and completely ruptured his right Achilles tendon. In two places. The last month has been a whirlwind of doctors and surgery and driving. So much driving. For example, three trips to Provo in one week (on the heels of the trip back from Logan where the injury happened) in order to complete surgery, then to Sanpete County 8 days later to removes stitches and cast his leg. Four days later we flew out of Salt Lake to Virginia for a week with touring and family activities every day. And now the three trips to Oak City and back per day to accommodate both my, and his, jobs. While doing all that's necessary for Lloyd, duties which remind me of taking care of a large, frustrated toddler, (he can't walk, drive, dress, navigate stairs or shower himself etc. etc.) I live my regularly scheduled hectic life. Now my vision is blurry for different reasons...fatigue, too many headlights coming at me while night driving, and stress. Don't forget stress.

It's especially entertaining when Lloyd and I try to watch a movie or a football game. He can't hear and I can't see. It's a constant game of “Is that the Chiefs or the Utes?” (I'm going by color here folks) To which he says, “Utes. Did he just say the fence is molding?” I respond, “Why would a ref say that? He said offensive holding. Hey, did you change the channel?” Lloyd shakes his head and laughs. “No it's a commercial."

It's a sad, sad thing. And still blurry.

Another thing that's blurry at our house is boundaries. We have rules, people! And what with some of us injured, some canine, some overloaded with chores, and some battling recovery, the clear lines we'd been operating by have become harder to see, and harder to enforce. Everyone is tense and easily frustrated. And things aren't getting done, which isn't the end of the world, but, for someone like me? Impossible to deal with.

As I'm thinking about blurriness this morning, (and how can I not with these glasses?) I watch an old LDS Conference talk that just sharpens all the lines a bit. He's talking about “light and dark”, but I'm hearing “clear and blurred”...and hope.

“I have a cherished painting in my office that is titled Entrance to Enlightenment. It was created by...the Danish artist Johan Benthin, who was the first stake president in Copenhagen, Denmark.

“The painting shows a dark room with an open door from which light is shining. It is interesting to me that the light coming through the door does not illuminate the entire room—only the space immediately in front of the door.

“To me, the darkness and light in this painting are a metaphor for life. It is part of our condition as mortal beings to sometimes feel as though we are surrounded by darkness. We might have lost a loved one; a child might have strayed; we might have received a troubling medical diagnosis; we might have employment challenges and be burdened by doubts or fears; or we might feel alone or unloved.

“But even though we may feel lost in the midst of our current circumstances, God promises the hope of His light—He promises to illuminate the way before us and show us the way out of darkness.”
-President Uchtdorf's talk: The Hope of God's Light, April 2013, Ensign

With that thought, I leave the house for work in the early morning pre-dawn. First it's not quite light enough to see, and then I find myself driving through fog. With blurry glasses.

But I can see light on the other side.

So even though my vision will be inadequately corrected until January, and blurred boundaries are too slowly reinforced-- Even though I've left lush, vibrant Autumn in Virginia for my dusty sage brush desert-- I drive through the fog this morning, watching the gorgeous sunrise in my rearview mirror.

My life has often been like glasses I can't see quite see through, but the glimpses of clarity I get every so often are breathtaking!

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