Seeing With My Eyes And My Heart

I had no idea a new pair of glasses could teach me a life lesson. Last week, I decided to get progressive lens — a fancy name for no-line trifocals. My first pair. I kept losing my readers. When you advance to progressives, you don’t take them off and on.

Picking out my frames, I texted pictures to my fashion savvy daughter.

 

After a bunch of “MOM, NO!!!” texts, I finally chose the pair on the left.

 

Friday night, I was so excited. My new glasses were ready. I slipped them on in the store. Ta-dah!

Then I tried to walk. My hands got clammy. I thought I might throw up. “Feels like my head’s stuck in a fishbowl,” I said to the saleslady.

“Point your nose toward what you want to see. The more you wear them, the quicker you’ll adjust.”

Adjust? To walking and moving my head? “How long does it take? A few hours?”

“Anywhere from a week to a month. Don’t shift your eyes, honey. Turn your head.”

This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have to change to see.

As I baby-stepped to the door, she called out, “Look down when you step off the curb.”

I didn’t trip walking to the car, but at home, I bumped into plenty of things.

The first two days, I considered asking for a refund.

And then on day three, I remembered the saleslady had worn progressive lens. Maybe she knew what she was talking about. I decided to follow her instructions.

Eureka!

By the afternoon, I became Alice in Wonderland. I noticed what kind of birds were at the feeder, tiny drops of rain, and even dirty spots on my  cabinets. Because of my stubborness, I almost missed out.

To experience a new way of living, I had to:

1. Listen to the truth.

2. Trust someone who knew more than I did.

3. Let go of my old ways.

Anyone working on changing? I understand. I hope this helps.

Love,

Julie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The One Sentence I’ll Never Forget

It’s so strange. When you’re a young mama, you think your children will always be little. At least I did. I was positive I’d be putting band-aids on skinned knees, making school lunches, and answering questions forever.

Our children, 21 years ago…Katie’s in front. Jamie’s holding baby Thomas. Our other son Robbie lives in heaven.

A few weeks ago, Katie called on her way home from work. I had some sort of decision weighing on me. I can’t remember what it was or I’d tell you.

(Katie now, age 28.)

This time, I was the one asking tons of questions. By the end of our conversation, I knew what to do. Dilemma solved.

“Wow,” I said. “Thank you. Did you realize you’re an incredible listener?”

“Awww, thanks, Mom.”

“Seriously. You didn’t interrupt me. You didn’t tell me what to do. You had the sweetest tone and you didn’t act bored. It means a lot.”

“Just think,” she said. “You’ve listened to me every single day of my life.”

Her sentence was a lacy pink Valentine to my heart.  A gift I’ll never forget.

She remembered.

Images of my children passed through my mind.  A lifetime of words.

Maybe there’s no greater gift than to listen. 

To really listen.

Love,

Julie (Mom)