Sabbath Devotional :: Thoughts on My Vision

I woke up one morning this past June with what seemed to be a smudge of Vaseline on my right eye. When I looked straight ahead the center of everything was blurry. As the day wore on, my vision in that eye stayed wonky. I tracked down an ophthalmologist who did a variety of tests with expensive machinery that could take images of the inside of my eyeball. Apparently some small blood vessels in the back of my eye had burst. “Vascular occlusion” was the term the doctor used. Untreated, it could get worse, eventually leading to possible blindness. “Don’t worry,” she said. “There’s a treatment. A series of shots in the eye!”

“Sign me up!” I said enthusiastically. As an artist, a writer and a reader I depend a lot on my eyes. Don’t we all?

I went for my first shot the next week. They put drops in to numb my eye and drops in to lubricate it. The doctor placed my head on some gadget that kept my eye wide open without blinking and. . . poke! In went the long sharp needle with its fancy medicine. Thankfully, the idea of a shot in the eye is much worse than the reality of a shot in the eye.

Within a couple of days I could tell my vision was improving and within a week I had nothing to complain about. A month after the shot I went in to have the second round of the three part series. They took another batch of photos of the inside of my eye to track my recovery.

“This looks like a miracle,” exclaimed the flummoxed technician. “I’ve never seen this condition heal up so fast.” My eye was back to normal, and the doctor decided against giving me the second shot. “Come back in another month, and we’ll look again.” That appointment will be in later this week. My vision is still clear so perhaps I’m done with this whole vascular occlusion business. Miracles or really good medicine? Are they mutually exclusive?

I’m glad my vision stayed clear because a few days after when I would have had that second shot, our family went on a long-planned-for trip to Ireland. Here I saw the Book of Kells with my own healthy eyes and felt awe in the presence of its antiquity, elegance and artistry. I saw castles and abbeys and ruins and stone walls — each evocative and practically seeping history and the sounds of war cries, priestly choirs or centuries of bleating sheep through their moss and mortar. (If you check out my facebook page you’ll find some of my favorite photos from that grand adventure.)

Going through customs both into and out of Ireland was reasonably efficient and pleasant. (The only snag was when US officials confiscated and tossed the newly purchased Irish ham and cheddar sandwich I’d planned to eat for lunch on the plane back to the US. I bought it at the airport. Shouldn’t someone have told me?)

As an informed and invested MWEG member, I contrasted that experience to the nightly news I watched every night at home of separated families at US borders with children and parents weeping. I thought about the ICE agents who arrested my friend Silvia in the parking lot of a Michael’s store last year, claiming her as low-hanging fruit from an immigration error she had no control over as a child 20 years ago.

How I relished my escape from the US news! The most anxiety I felt on that trip was watching my husband drive on the left hand side of the road with me in the passenger seat constantly sideswiping hedges. I loved having a “fast” from non-stop news reports about payoffs and corruption, pardons and plea deals. The biggest news event was who was going to win the Senior Hurling Championship. (County Limerick won for the first time in 75 years.)

Since I have been home (and while I still recover from jet lag) I have a recurring song running through my mind. It’s an ancient Irish prayer attributed to the sixth-century Irish Christian poet Dallán Forgaill, set to a gorgeous old Irish tune called “Slane.” It was written in the form of a lorica — a prayer of protection. I want to let this song envelop and protect me as I re-enter active duty in the ongoing process of advocating for ethics in our country’s governance.

As I anticipate my next appointment with the ophthalmologist, the irony of the lyrics are not lost on me. May they resonate with you, protect and defend you, and give you hope, comfort — and vision. I am grateful for the braiding of these experiences reminding me of the larger cause we are in through lasting covenants and love.

Be Thou my vision, oh Lord of my heart

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art

Thou my best thought by day or by night

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light

Be Thou my wisdom and Thou my true word

I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord

Thou my great Father, I Thy true [child]

Thou in me dwelling and I with Thee one

High King of Heaven my victory won

May I reach heaven’s joys, oh, bright heaven’s sun

Heart of my own heart whatever befall

Still be my vision, oh Ruler of all.