I got new glasses today. They’re bifocals, and they’re driving me crazy.
No matter what I try to focus on, some portion of my vision is furry. It’s as if the lenses are smudged, or I’ve had a massive attack of floaters, or I’m losing consciousness. And if switching between distance and reading is a challenge, trying to work on the computer seems hopeless. It’s the wrong distance for either type of lens.
I know that in a few days my eyes will adapt and I’ll be fine. This is good. Because sometimes life is an awful lot like getting new glasses. It’s easy to forget that what feels like a permanent and oppressive problem is in fact a temporary annoyance.
Most of the aggravations I face in life are not actually problems. They are two-minute trials of patience, or three-hour tests of endurance or four-day (or four week, or four month) periods of adjustment. Though I writhe and fuss over difficulty as if something horrible has been inflicted upon me, in reality I’m having my tantrum safely in the palm of God’s hand. Why can’t I see this? Perhaps because sometimes I look at life through the lens of my fears, instead of the lens of my faith.
Lord, let me see clearly.