If you wear glasses or have ever worn glasses then you know
what I am about to tell you is the absolute truth.
Flying objects, defying all laws of physics, are somehow
mystically and magically attracted to your face.
When I was a kid that meant basketballs, kick balls, dodge balls,
softballs, errant hands waving about, just about anything and everything seemed
to be heading one direction and then take this crazy curve and crash into my
face.
When I was sixteen and on a class field trip to Quebec, a
Nerf softball (yes, I said Nerf) hit me in the face, knocking my glasses off
and bending them at a horrible angle.
Our tour guide wound up taking me to the local mall to get them fixed
all the while explaining my predicament in French, French that I’m sure
included the words, “Elle est stupide.”
Even as an adult, I am a magnet. A few years ago I was babysitting the kids of
a friend of mine when out of nowhere a ball slammed into the side of my
glasses, knocking them off into my hands.
A few years before that, I was trying to blow out a candle
and not having much luck (does it surprise you that a girl with glasses as
thick as mine would be too wimpy to blow out a candle) so I took one last deep
breath and blew as hard as I could … sending wax that had pooled around the
wick flying up into my face. The only
reason I’m not blind is because of my glasses.
Try removing dried candle wax from your glasses someday when you’re
bored and have an afternoon to kill.
And then yesterday, I was trying a craft project where I use
binder clips to hang a picture on the wall and the next thing I knew, the
binder clip popped off, shot across my right shoulder and landed ten feet
behind me, stopped only by the laundry room door.
And I laughed.
My friend Jennifer and I laugh all the time about our
horrible eyesight giving us zero depth perception, but fortunately for me, I’ve
played a lot of video games in my life and I have excellent reflexes, either
that or a very patient guardian angel.
Whether you wear glasses or not, though, I’m sure you can
appreciate feeling at times like the world is taking shots at you, that
everywhere you turn, something horrible is flying in your direction and you’re
spending every minute of every day trying to dodge family squabbles, or trouble
at work, or sickness, or your own interior Incredible Hulk that seems to pop
out every time you get stuck in traffic.
The holidays are a time ripe for this type of thing.
I practically had a coronary (does anyone say coronary
anymore) the other night trying to figure out my Christmas list, who I always
bought for and how I was going manage giving gifts when, for the first time in
my adult life, I have no source of income at Christmas.
It’s been frustrating, but it’s also allowed me to be more creative
and thoughtful in my gift giving this year.
In a few days I will begin sending my mom’s Christmas gift to her. For years, she has given me an Advent
calendar. But this year it’s my
turn. She’s been begging me for pictures
that I’ve taken of flowers and wildlife and I found about 24 of them that I had
printed on postcards and shoved in a drawer years ago. So she will be getting one picture a day and
on the back will be a verse from the Christmas story.
Other gifts, I won’t spoil here, but the plan is, after two
Decembers in a row of dealing with one fever after the next, to spend this
December relaxed and comfortably busy.
There is a Capri Sun commercial that I love that has a
mother watching over everything her son does day and night, answering questions
for him in class, biking home with him and, during a game of dodge ball,
standing in front of him, knocking the balls away.
We tend to make New Year’s pledges and Lenten sacrifices,
but my Advent pledge this year is to let God do what God loves to do, which is
take care of us.
Psalm 91:5 tells us, “You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day.”
God is our protector, our redeemer and our hope—always.
