Vision

When I was in 2nd grade, my teacher, Mrs. Schaeffer, knew the tell-tale signs. She saw me squinting from the back row. She knew I was having trouble seeing from the back of the class. I was so shy, I was afraid (or too proud) to admit I couldn't read her handwriting on the chalkboard. She must have had a chat with my mom, because after the last parent/teacher conference that school year, mom came home and gently suggested, "we need to schedule an appointment with Dr. VanArsdal," who was our family's optometrist.

That was the summer of 1972.

I hated my first pair of glasses! Thick lenses, an ugly gray/green plastic rectangular frame--yuk!
I remember thinking, 'I should have picked cool wire-rimmed glasses like John Denver." But still, I was very appreciative of how much better I COULD SEE! I could see the birds flying way up high up in the sky, could read road signs, and best of all, I could read my piano music better! But every once in a while, I would see dark spots float around in my line of vision.

And they still plague me. Floaters, they're called. Basically, they are clumps of the gel-like substance contained in the eyes. Like lumps in gravy, I suppose. As my eyes become older and weaker, the more prominent and bothersome these dark clumps become.

I can no longer use a microscope. The floaters are so numerous and dense, they are all I see.

On snowy or bright sunny days, the floaters appear to be small rodents scurrying around.

At night, road signs are sometimes blurry because of a floater that 'won't go away'...

No matter how much I look in the opposite direction or blink my eyes to get them to move around, these lumpy-clumps WILL NOT GO AWAY!

There is no surgery or medicine, no laser, no corrective glasses or contact lenses to make my eye gel smooth and clear again. My optometrist did tell me that I have something to look forward to.

When I'm 70-75 years old, gravity will eventually take hold and the floaters will sink to the bottom, much like the rest of my body! Get excited!

Sure, perfect vision would be GREAT! I would LOVE to look up at the sky and see God's perfect canvas of bright yellow sun against the softest blue hue imaginable without blemish. To take an old fashioned sleigh ride on a blanket of pure white fresh-fallen snow would be a dream come true.

My sight-challenge, however, is not that I have floaters, but that I desire perfection in my vision.

And, taking this lesson a bit further, shame on me for seeing your imperfections when I should have the vision to know that I'm just like you--a sinner, imperfect and blind most of the time to what's really important in life.

Hindsight, foresight, 'if only I could have seen then what I see now' sight...That's the tricky thing about vision. It's not about what you see, but often about what you don't see. I think that's called...stepping out in faith?

My floaters will continue to give me grief, but they will not and cannot steal my ability to see.

Vision is clearly focusing on the beauty around me and not paying attention to the dark floaters that hover.

How's your vision?

Happiness

Autumn is here...my favorite time of year! Cool breezes, beautiful colors, football, sweatshirts and spicy smells of apples, cinnamon and pumpkin. Could life be any better?

Wait...don't answer that question. Think first about your life and what you have already. Sometimes I think we're too quick to judge our lives by what we DON'T have rather than by what we DO have.

A dear person recently replied to an email I had sent and gave me some good advice. At the end, this person stressed that what really mattered most was my happiness. That's something I haven't thought about--selfishly--for quite some time. Happiness...hmm. Such a simple concept, but not always attained--simply.

After thinking about what makes me happy, I began to take inventory of my life. What makes me happy? Is there happiness in my life? AM I truly happy?

The cliche, "It's not what we have but how much we enjoy..." of course came to mind. The more modern-day version would be the MasterCard "Priceless" TV ads. There are those life moments and experiences that turn into precious treasured memories. I do not dwell in the past, but rather, I let the past dwell in me. God gave us the ability to remember. Though some memories are painful, I am thankful--so thankful--for the memories that make me smile.

If having memories makes me happy, then, yes--I have happiness.

There are so many lost souls out there...looking for a purpose in life, looking for love, looking for some one or some thing to fill the void in their lives. I wouldn't say that I've found my 'sole purpose' in life, but I do know that I've found many reasons for my 'soul purpose.' I am blessed with a man who truly loves me as I am, two wonderful children and the love and forgiveness of a Savior--who died for ME so many, many years ago. The longer I live, the more I realize that life here on Earth is all about relationships. Our true love relationships, which includes our one true love, the special person we give our heart and soul to, the unconditional and reciprocal love of our child(ren) and last, but most important, our personal relationship with our God, is undeniably vital to life.

If having love from the man I love, from my children and from Jesus Christ, God's only Son makes me happy, then yes--I have happiness.

There are many other things that give me simple joy--a cool pillow on a warm summer night, a great cup of coffee, a solitary hour spent playing the piano, and time spent with the ones I love. Through the good times and the bad, thick and thin (my dress size also applies here), beautiful and ugly, laughter and tears, waiting, praying, agonizing...and thanksgiving...I will continue to be happy.

Yes, I have happiness.

My Ending

"The end of the matter is better than its beginning..."

Ecclesiastes 7: 8

This afternoon as I lie on the sofa for some R and R, I grabbed my "Wisdom for the Way" book by Charles Swindoll for a much-needed devotion. More often than I'd like to admit, I randomly open a book and read what is before me. And I did that today. The short devotion was titled, "The End of the Story" and referenced the scripture above from Ecclesiastes.

Being in the middle of my life's story, King Solomon's words really struck a cord...and chord.

Several of my chapters have already been completed--they're finished, done. Written and already sent to the publisher. And, then there are the chapters I'm in the process of writing. I'm sure, before they're completed, I will have erased, deleted, gone back to start over and rewrite many of them. But eventually, those chapters will be finished and will be added to "The Regina Story" compilation.

How my story ends--whether good, bad or indifferent--I realized, is entirely up to me. What a profound thought to have while trying to rest... At the same time, I also realized that the chapters in the middle...the not so good ones...really don't matter. This "middle" I'm currently in will have an impact on my last chapter, but it's not really as important as the end. The mistakes I've made, missed opportunities, bad judgment, harsh words---all the 'bad' stuff sandwiched in between my beginning and end....is not as important as I once had thought.

While every chapter of my life story is important, what matters in the end...is the end.

So what do I want my ending to be? A happy one, of course. (I hate movies or books that end tragically.) Not only happy, but an ending that reflects a life filled with love, laughter, music and family; a life lived with unselfish determination, compassion, no regrets, with nothing left unsaid or undone. To use my talents, to give my love away, expecting no reward or gain in return--that would make a happy ending.

To know I made a difference in at least one person's life--that would make a happy ending.

And, to have these words written as my last sentence--

"Well done, my good and faithful servant..."

THE END

Fog

Creepy, wispy, blinding fog. There's nothing more scary at 5 o'clock in the morning than walking in fog.

Determined to stick to my commitment to walk every morning, I wasn't about to let some left over mist deter me two days in a row. Though I had flashes of "An American Werewolf in London," I braved the familiar but darkened country road...a road I've walked a million times. So why the increased heart rate? I'm not THAT out of shape!

Of course...the reason's obvious....as obvious as the nose on my face (that I couldn't see in the FOG!)

No one likes walking when they can't see what lies ahead.

I did take along a flashlight, but more for my safety than to actually see. (Cars and trucks race by on our roads, not thinking to slow down over the hills and curves.) Knowing a driver would see my light, I felt a little safer.

I'm sure if I had someone walking with me, I would have felt even more secure. But who likes to get up THAT early? Sure, I could have harnessed our dog, Jenna. But even she acted like she wanted to sleep in.

I hope the fog doesn't return again tomorrow morning, but if it does, I will take my walk anyway. I'm committed. I have made up my mind. I have my flashlight. I will walk the road--familiar or not--and even if I can't always see what lies ahead.

Voices

When I was four or five years old, I remember standing in the hallway just outside my bedroom at our home in Flatrock Park. (The acoustics were great!) Pretend microphone in hand, I would sing 'opera' to my audience of none, curtsy, then take my leave. I loved pretending almost as much as I enjoyed hearing my voice echo off the walls! Though I did not sing in public until much much later, I still remember how I loved being that hallway opera star!

Everyone has a voice, their own unique sound that...identifies who they are and makes them what they are. True, not everyone should be an opera star, but still their voice needs to be heard. For a voice is what makes a person's soul come to life.

A voice breathes life into emotions, words and music that may have died a slow and painful death otherwise.

How have you used your voice lately?

What have you given life to?

Have you used it in praise or in condemnation? Expressed love or caused someone else pain?

Shouts of joy or angry shouting matches?

No one but you can use your voice. And after you're gone...either from the room, or from this life, what you have said or sung may continue to linger on. For generations, even.

Your voice is you and you're important. Say or sing something special and memorable...to someone special and memorable...before time takes all your air away.

Time

I've always been intrigued by the concept of time travel. Any movie that includes a good storyline of going back in time or traveling to the future has me spellbound and wide-eyed.

This past week, our son, T.J., had an English writing assignment 'if you could travel back in time or to the future, which would you choose, why and what would you want to see?' What a difficult question! And he thought so, too.

If I had to choose just one specific moment in time, I don't think I could. In our own lives, we each have our list of do-overs that, well....the list for me would be overwhelming. Moments in time I wish I could take back--either to relive or to return. Words spoken that shouldn't have been. Choices made--both good and bad. People I loved that are no longer here with me... The list is endless.

To see, to experience, to feel what we've only heard or read about...wow. That would be something, wouldn't it?

So rather than go back in time focusing on my life, I'd rather experience....
the birth of Christ or...discovering the Americas or....the signing of the Declaration of Independence or...Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address or...coming as an immigrant to the United States and seeing the Statue of Liberty or...seeing Thomas Edison's face when he found the right filament for the electric light bulb or...again, the list is endless!

Still, to be a 'fly on the wall 'at my grandparents' weddings, to peek through the small country church window to hear my mom and dad say, "I do..." Goosebumps.

Reflecting on the past can be a healthy and beneficial process. We can learn from our mistakes, relish in our successes and hopefully take the best of both to make a better future for ourselves and others. The older I become, the more I realize how precious time is. Because unlike movies and books, once time is gone, it's gone forever.

So today as I watch our 18 year-old daughter dry her long brown hair, I remember how I wished she had at least a few long strands to gather for a pink bow! College-bound, wide-eyed, innocent and my shining star, I am reminded, again, of time and of God's precious gift called the present.

Hope

For ten years, I’ve been slowly watching a house plant loose its foliage. Beginning as a vibrant, green multi-stemmed beauty, the poor thing is now a single shoot with barely ten leaves at the top…Reminds me of a palm tree, actually.

Early this morning as I gathered a few more items for our yard sale, I decided to include the plant and its stand. Then, I thought, “Who would want this scrawny little thing?” and picked it up intending to put it in the trash. As I grabbed the pot, near the base of the plant I spotted a dark green sprout, about 3 inches tall. “Well, what have we here—new life!” I proclaimed. “Guess I’ll hold onto you for a little while longer.”

I’ve repotted that plant, watered and fed it, placed it in varying degrees of sunlight and shade—virtually begged it to not give up and die. Now when I’m not looking, about to give up on it, it decides to grow. Go figure.

Silly little ugly palm-tree-looking thing, our lives are a lot like you. Just when we think all hope is lost, a friend or a loved one reaches down, picks us up and tell us, “You’re still important to me.” When our lives are the ugliest, most vacant and dry, a tiny miracle sprouts up to give us hope.

And we all could use a little more hope.

Hope that biopsy results reveal no cancer...Hope that there’s a job around the corner…Hope that there’s still someone out there for me…

And even when our lives loose all earthly hope, there’s still a promise we can claim as our very own—a promise that far outweighs any earthly joy we could ever imagine. Yes, God reached down to us and gave us a tiny, little miracle. He said, “You’re still important to me.” He gave us hope. He gave us his son, Jesus.

So, thanks little plant, for reminding me to never give up.
Hope itself is a true miracle.