Doctor, My Eyes

I lost it gradually.  So gradually, in fact, I scarcely noticed the demise.  That is until one day it was markedly diminished.  My eyesight, that is.  Having read Kipling’s, The Light that Failed, I have wondered in which state I will end, and if my perceptions now are reality or remembered sight.  I already understand that I don’t read every letter but compute words by practiced form recognition.  Will I, one day, live through memory?  At any rate, I have come to accept the fact that things are changing with me.  Things I formerly knew in observation and in study, but, now, in experience and in truth.

The same process of incremental decline is at work in other physicalities.  I’m fortunate to be in relative good health, but it may not always be so.  Despite this, I can see and feel the decline.  My strength is not that of old though I remain thankful for the remnant.  While calamity could strike us all at any time, most will be like me and experience small losses over years.  It’s not that we once considered ourselves everlasting or invincible.  In former years, we didn’t consider the eventual slide at all.  We were too busy living life and doing the things that the hale do in the administration of duty or otherwise.

Not being one to give quarter, I try to change the subject when my so-called friends complain of aches and pains.  As an optimistic sort, I tell them that the way we feel is largely state-of-mind.  I really believe that and take great pleasure in admonishing my juniors, “Quitcher bellyachin!’”  There are advantages in being at different points in life, and I am beginning to enjoy being a curmudgeon.  I can now identify with a larger swath of the population because I have lived more days.  Experience is the best teacher.  Though they yield bitter ends, life lessons produce empathy, an honorable and good thing. 

In the spiritual realm, gain and loss, may, likewise, be subtle in nature.  The concerned may anguish over slow ascents, yet ascents they are and noticed by others.  In the same manner, the unguarded will slip from steadfastness not realizing their peril.  Just as some begin exercise regimens too late, spirituality is easier to maintain than to gain after time.  Samson must have had some good qualities as he judged Israel for twenty years, but the strong man neglected his spiritual life in the pursuit of temporal things.  He grew cold over time.  When the Spirit of God left him, Samson did not realize He was gone.

Certain things occurred are beyond redress.  Manifestations of decay may not respond to
resuscitants.  We address what remains, like it or not, and fortify ruins against further and future declines.  We live with the present at each point in life doing our best with tools and materials at hand.  It may be what we wear is not what we wanted.  The risen Christ encourages the church to
strengthen the remains, and the same admonition is good for individuals.  Throughout our lives, we run in the clear day and trudge through the dead of night living our fullest for Christ whatever the circumstances.

Paul said he learned to be content.  There is a learning curve to each aspect of maturity; a process of development.  We learn to be satisfied through experiences realizing wishes are not horses and we seldom attain caviar dreams.  We work change according to our abilities, accept eventualities outside our power to affect renovation and commit our ways to God.  I am learning to accept the changing seasons of life and even enjoy the variety.  In all times and in every way, our Lord remains the same.  He is the constant.  Our lives are passing with each breath, and, for some, it’s later than it seems.


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