The Color Clear, Another Year

Do you perceive Clear to be a color? I do. And the more Clear dims from my vision, the more I am convinced that it is not only a color, but a transmitter–a prism–in which all other colors of life are viewed in light.

“I live in darkness,” I say the morning of the Chick-Fil-A party…although, the electricity bills probably prove otherwise.  I had just mentioned, yet again, the need for all the lights to be turned on so I had a better chance at lip-reading. It’s amazing what light can do, especially natural sunlight–which we have only had a few days over the past few weeks. The overcast has not helped the new tint conditions either and it is dark to me whether the lights are all on or not.

It has only been since around Thanksgiving that I took notice of the left eye changes being more consistent, and when the tint of color changes started, I knew it was not just fatigue or even dry eyes (which doesn’t help and I have had a bad case of since before cataract correction.) It is difficult to explain this tint, as you know from previous posts; but at breakfast that morning of the party, we sat finishing our coffee and discussing this, to where Dad suggests the left eye “like a rose tint?” as compared to my grey with blind spots in the right eye. I don’t know how Dad guessed rose as the tint, but he is almost exact…just add the fuzzyness and that has been my increasing change over the holidays. And the change is still happening.

To be honest, this Christmas was very different. I am pretty sure I was in tears more than laughter, but there ere the notable and memorable occasions. Trying to stay focused on the joy surrounding everything, the back of my mind was a turmoil of thoughts. I know it is also in my spiritual life too, because I have had dreams and I have never felt so much in the flesh fighting against each other in the daily living.

As Christmas ended, I looked back at this year and tried to remember who I was contrast to who I am now. I often don’t grasp the realization of all that truly changed; it’s overwhelming. I don’t recognize myself in the mirror; I don’t remember the view of clear vision full of color or walking without a walker; I can’t remember the sound of my family’s voices or the roar of Muffy’s purr. Thoughts like this are fading memories and like my fading vision, I guess I am not ready to let go of them. After a year of change, I am exhausted.

Still, not all change was physical. I was being molded like pottery, like the jars of clay in the Maker’s hand. Even now, the phrase, “We live by faith, not by sight,” has taken a whole new meaning in my life. No longer is it the easy “Christian faith slogan”, but the hard core truth of my relationship with Christ as I start a new year with extreme visual impairment (not to mention everything else on the list.) As fast as the year came and went, the road was long, the road is hard. I can expect more challenges and change in the new year and am I willing to let go of myself–even my sight, if that is what comes–in order to draw nearer to Christ. It is a question I cannot answer in words.

I enter 2015, knowing that faith doesn’t promise clear answers to all my questions…but rather a colorful life, lived in the fullness of God’s mercy and grace.

Until then…

Mel