What I Saw Today

Ah, the joys of not being able to drive!

As my vision has improved, I’ve had friends say, “You’ll get to drive in no time.” I’m sorry to burst your bubble but as much of a change as I have experienced, my vision won’t improve that much. It has a long way to go before I can see a stop sign from several car lengths away. I’m okay with that; for the most part, I’m very content in my non-driver status.

Am I crazy? Driving a car is an inalienable right akin to life, liberty, and the pursuit of the American dream. Car ownership is a major life convenience bordering on necessity. Car keys represent power, control, and independence. Talk to any older person forced to give up their driver’s license or that sixteen year old ready to wrap their grimy mitts around that gear shift. Oh wait, do cars come equipped with gear shifts? Did I mention I’ve never driven before?

As a quiet bystander to the stories about driving escapades, I can tell you, there are days I’m glad I don’t drive.

Consider this:

I have never

• Lost my car keys.
• Locked myself out of my car before an important job interview.
• Backed into a utility pole.
• Failed the driver’s test.
• Needed to change a flat tire.
• Driven the wrong way on a one way street.
• Got stuck in a pit of mud on a back woods road (but my #1 sweetie has!).
• Had to worry whether Geico is 15% less than my current auto insurance or consider the option of no-fault insurance. After all, a car collision is never my fault unless I distract the driver.

  

Best of all,

I’ve never been tempted to talk a police officer out of a traffic ticket. Wait a minute. That sounds like fun!

Am I making light of the situation? Perhaps. I do have my down days where I wish I could drive. It would be nice not to have to depend on other people for the simplest of tasks like going to the grocery store for some bananas or slipping up to Dairy Queen for a secret root beer float. Some days, I have an overwhelming urge to escape my ordinary life and, like James T. Kirk from Star Trek, “see what’s out there.”

In those moments, I remind myself of this:

Not owning a car or a driver’s license can have its benefits.

Time-saver. My personal poll on Facebook revealed the number of hours people spend driving. It varied tremendously based on their season of life and where they lived, but I quickly got the idea. I have the gift of an extra four to twenty hours a week where I’m not wasting time behind a wheel. My literary agent thinks I’m such a hard worker; the truth is, I’ve got the time to write, knit, AND plays games on my tablet because I stay at home.

Money saver. My husband should be ecstatic. I save him more than 15% on overall car expenses. We own only one car and I’m not taking all those trips to the grocery store ten miles away. When we go to town, we combine errands and make each trip count. When he frets over the cost of my airline ticket to visit family in Arizona, I remind him that I’ve saved three times the cost of the airline ticket in one year because he’s the only driver in the family.

My adult daughter who works as a University instructor and who hasn’t driven until recently, was content with her modest salary. “It’s plenty,” she said. “Why would anyone want more than this?”

“You don’t make car payments or pay for car insurance,” I told her.

Slower pace: How do I manage? I walk. Walking is a good thing. Aside from the cardio-vascular workout, walking to the store makes me slow down and enjoy the sights: the birds flitting from tree to tree, the flowers on porches, and the clouds morphing into new shapes. When you drive, you go too fast to catch the details.

Companionship: “You’re so lucky,” an aunt told me. “You have all these fascinating stories of people you’ve been with because you have to ask others for rides. Me? I just get in my car and go. By myself.” She’s right. I always have to be with someone else in a car. I get a ring side seat on the stories in their lives.

It works the other way. I have a sentence from Carol Kent’s book, “Becoming a Woman of Influence” on my white board that reminds me of the importance of discipling along life’s way. It says, “Make every contact count.” Just think of all my extra connections with people because I have to ask for rides. And the driver is a captive audience!

Compassion and Inspiration: I understand the frustration of the elderly about relinquishing those car keys. I’ve had many talks with older people who seem relieved that SOMEONE understands. I’m able to share with them how to adapt and that surrendering that license is not the beginning of the end.

Dependence on God: Necessity is the mother of dependence on God. From the age of sixteen, transportation issues threw me at the feet of Jesus and I found Him faithful. I’ve learned to pray that God provide a way for me to get where I need to go. Once I wanted to go to a writer’s conference 300 miles away. I got there and back—four drivers and one Greyhound bus later. Every transfer was a step of faith and a proof that if God calls you, He will resource you.

What keeps you from doing all that you want to do?

Look at the benefits and the hidden blessings. Maybe you aren’t missing out on so much after all. Sometimes the having brings more grief than the wanting.

Relinquish your need to God. Give Him room to work. Ask Him to show you the benefits of not having what you want and how He has filled in the cracks of your need.

He might surprise you at the wisdom of His alternate plan. He’s very creative. He’ll provide for you in a way that will make you and those watching you shake your heads and say, “Only God!”

What’s new with my eye sight?

Nine months have passed since surgery repaired a torn retina, cleaned out debris left from a congenital cataract, and widened the shrunken pupil in my left eye. I’ve catalogued all kinds of things on Facebook that I’ve seen for the first time in my life till I’m certain friends are tired of hearing my new sight discoveries. I’ve wondered when life will settle down, I’ll get used to the visual improvement, and I won’t notice any new changes.

For right now, it hasn’t stopped! God has revealed Himself in so many ways. I have witnessed His handiwork over and over again.

Let me give you an update.

I’ve seen stars, brighter colors, the texture of dirt, the flutter of a hummingbird at a feeder, and a thousand geese streaming across the sky. I’ve seen wrinkles in the faces of older friends,my husband’s gray hair, and smudges on walls.

The best thing of all? Inclusion in church worship.

What has been most meaningful to me? Power point slides. Before my surgery, I would be able to see the words projected on the screen at the front of our church auditorium only if I sat in the first row, craning my neck upwards. Now I can sit seven rows back and read the words with ease. What does that mean for me? I can join in congregational singing again.

As churches have moved from hymnbooks to video screens over the last twenty years, the projected words silenced my voice. While I understood the need for such a change and I publically support the church’s desire to move forward in the use of technology, I felt left out.

I love to sing. I love to sing praises to my God. I love, love, love singing with other people, encouraged that we share the same confidence and hope we find in Christ. The option of worshipping God by listening to others sing satisfies only so long. Faking it feels dishonest. One of these years, someone is going to catch me singing, “Watermelon, watermelon.” Program planners and church secretaries got annoyed at me for asking for printed lyrics sheets.

Now I can sing with abandon because I can see the words. I can be part of worship again.

I can fulfill my role as a worship leader with greater ease. Before, I swallowed my embarrassment and held my lyrics cheat sheet three inches from my face, trying to convince myself I didn’t care how I looked to the crowd facing me. Now my lyrics page lays unseen by others on my music stand. I can see the faces in the front half of the auditorium. In fact, just this past month, I was able to recognize people sitting all the way in the back of the church. Sweet!

For the first time, I feel like I’m connecting with my audience and we are worshipping God together.

The most frustrating worship struggle is now gone!

As important as singing has been, the most meaningful return to worship has been Communion. You wouldn’t think someone could feel left out of Communion. Like, what struggle could there possibly be for a sight impaired person?

As my vision deteriorated due to the torn retina, it was harder to visually concentrate even on things within my range of vision. I couldn’t tell which Communion cups were empty and which were full of juice. I would stare at the tray, aware that I was slowing down the entire service by my tentativeness, but the images of the cups would waver and fade in and out. I was spending more mental effort figuring out which cup to pick up than on why I was taking Communion in the first place.

I finally swallowed my pride and asked several close friends to sit next to me so they could point to a full communion cup. This worked and people were very gracious. One widow lady discretely selected a cup for me and put it back in the tray when I was done. “I did that for my husband when he lost his sight before he died,” she whispered to me. After asking her only once, another friend intentionally sough me out so she could sit next to me. No one ever made a fuss about the matter.

Still, I was distracted and anxious. Would my friends remember my need from week to week? Would we spill the juice as we tried to transfer the cup? Oh God, don’t let any accidents happen. Help me trust You about silly things like spilling grape juice on my pants so I can think about what Your Son did for me.

Now I can see full cups even on the far side of the tray. I can relax and think about Jesus and His death on the cross. What freedom!

Within every answer to prayer, there are a cluster of little answers, a thousand miniscule ways God shows Himself to His chosen ones. We so often focus on the big need and forget the details. I’ve enjoyed so many new details since my eye surgery, I feel like I’m on visual overload.

You don’t have to have improved sight to catch God in the details.

My spiritual sight is improving too. I’m learning to see God in the details, to see the small stuff as gifts from His hand, to hear Him not only in the big booms of thunder but in the still small voice of His presence. I’m learning to praise Him in the small moments like the times He guides my tongue to say gracious words, provides a special price at the grocery store on hamburger, or connects me at just the right moment with people who need an encouraging word or who encourage me.

What have you seen God do? How have you seen His work in the world? How are you seeing the world differently than you did a year ago?

If you feel like God does things only for others and you aren’t seeing His work, here’s what you can do.

• Ask God to improve your long range vision so you can see the details of all that He is doing.

• Start each day by asking God to reveal Himself, His ways and His work to you.

• Keep a log of those moments when you see Him at work.

• Recount those moments at the end of your day.

See what God has done. Look close and catch the details.

What do you see God doing? Share with us!