Ch 9: Bless Your Eyes

I was so ready to give up those darn reading glasses!

I come from a long line of church-going Christians. On my mother’s side, going back six generations, were four ministers (all men, of course), followed by my grandmother, Frances, and my mother, Zoanne. Back in their day, women were not eligible to be ministers in our faith tradition. That changed in 1984.

My point is that religion is baked into our family story. I am hard-wired for church. In my baby book, my mother wrote that she took me to church when I was three weeks old. My first Sunday School teacher was even a relative. My great-aunt, Auntie Madge (one of Frances’ sisters), ran the preschool class.

[Editor's Note: This article is Chapter 9 in my serialized spiritual memoir Well Guided: My Life as a Student at the International Academy of God, in which I share some of the many ways God has had a hand in my life. Access previous chapters via the Table of Contents.]

Auntie Madge’s class was memorable because of what she brought, more than what she taught. She would bring a big drawstring bag made of thin, cotton fabric reminiscent of a red bandana. A large round piece of cardboard in the bottom lent it the feel, when you opened the drawstring and reached inside, of a great big bowl. 

I would get so excited seeing that red bag in Auntie Madge’s hand. The aroma, wow. That bag was filled to the brim with freshly popped popcorn. She must have made it right before leaving for church.

Image by Szabolcs Molnar from Pixabay

Thanks to Auntie Madge and the possibility of popcorn, I couldn't wait to get to Sunday School.

In time I began to associate Sunday School with other good things, and I did manage to learn a lot of Bible stories. Between that and listening to sermons, I grew up knowing the gist of what was in the Bible. But I couldn’t begin to tell you chapter and verse. Our faith tradition didn’t put a huge emphasis on memorizing scripture, not the way some other churches do.

We’re Supposed to Apply This?

In fact, I didn't even realize that all scripture – more than just the Ten Commandments and a few other thou-shalts and thou-shalt-nots – should have meaning for my life until I was well into my twenties. 

Then one day a friend of mine, Doris, made a comment about how some specific scripture had such meaning for her life, and I thought, Wait. We're supposed to apply this? This is supposed to mean something?

That insight was a revelation. It was especially revelatory because of my experience with Doris in my dad's Sunday school class, in grade school. Dad would have us take turns reading the lesson aloud, and when it came to Doris, she would struggle. She was two years older than me, and I could read aloud way better than she could.

So, fast-forward to my twenties, when the switch finally flicked on in my head. Well, yeah, I could read the words, but I wasn’t getting much out of them beyond the basic story. Doris might have had a harder time reading aloud, but she was getting way more out of it than I was. That was a super frustrating realization for a super learner like myself. 

Looking back, I realize it was hard for me to grasp the intuitive, sometimes cryptic nature of scripture because I'm more of a left-brain person. My college major was applied math. I took technical writing, not creative writing. I went to work in a technical field. Most of my adult work-life focus was on left-brain activities. 

Perhaps you can relate. In high school, when the teacher asked What did the author mean here? my reflex was to ask, How should I know what somebody else was thinking? 

I was that kid in class who was focused on the surface of the story. I just didn’t get that big goosebumps feel some people get when they tap into the meaning of a story. Not at all. No aha’s for me.

When I realized Doris was getting all this hidden meaning from scripture, I sank. Here I was acing math, but flunking scripture. How could that even be possible? Was something really lacking in me? I started praying about it each time I sat down to read the Bible. That helped a little, but diving around for deeper meaning was still a major struggle.

Getting Exciting News

And then, in my fifties, after decades of struggle, a surprising thing happened.

A month after Maria’s December visit, on Wednesday, January 9, 2008, just as I was waking up, the Spirit started a brief conversation.

Experiment on my word. Bless your eyes.

In my head, I asked, Who should do this [blessing]? The answer was, Greg (another Elder in my congregation whom I considered a spiritual mentor).

I then asked: Where should it be done? The answer: In private, not in front of the congregation.

Finally, I asked: Who should assist? The answer was: Cindy. (I took this to be my friend, Cindy W. The one who would later tell me I was so observant.)

This was the third experience I’d had of a just-upon-awakening conversation like this. When I hear words before I’m even aware that I’m awake, I recognize the Source and the importance. And I take the message seriously.

Setting a Date

Later that day, I emailed Greg, describing this experience. I asked if he would perform the sacrament of blessing (also called anointing, or laying on of hands) on Sunday, after our church service. And I summarized my vision problems:

I have worn glasses since the age of 8, hard contact lenses since the age of 12.

My distance vision has actually gotten slightly better over the past ten years, but my ability to read with the contacts in has gotten much worse. I have to wear reading glasses for anything smaller than about 20-point type. 

The biggest problem with this is that if I’m wearing contacts plus reading glasses, I can’t see well in the mid-range between desk distance and floor distance. This makes tasks like shopping or reading shelf tags at our store difficult.

In addition, I have had allergies since childhood. While they have gotten much better in the past ten years, they now mostly affect my eyes. My eyes will itch to the point where I can’t wear contacts. I can switch to my glasses, but the prescription is set so that they work best right after I take out the contacts. If I have to go more than a day without contacts, my vision with glasses starts to worsen (as my eye shape changes).

I would have to say that my vision is my most serious medical concern at the moment. I count myself lucky there, because it’s mostly just an annoyance.

I find it rather exciting to have received the above spiritual challenge. 

Looking back, I sounded kind of whiny.

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich from Pexels

I was sooo excited. I couldn’t help thinking Oh my gosh, I'm gonna be able to see. God's going to heal me. I'm not gonna have to wear reading glasses anymore. This is gonna be so awesome!

Greg said he would take care of it. On Saturday, I emailed Cindy W with similar information. 

No Expectations

That evening, I felt the gentle nudge of the Spirit prompting me to pull out my journal and listen for a message. “Master, speak, Thy servant heareth,” I wrote.

And the Spirit responded.

Do not go tomorrow with great expectations. I said “experiment.” See what happens. Don’t go in with any preconceived notions. Don’t let Greg speculate. Only go with an open mind and an open ear expecting to be blessed and nothing more. Not necessarily healed. The rest – whatever that is – will come later – not tomorrow. I will say no more about this.

Greg and Cindy must not know anything other than that this is an experiment. Let them have no expectations. I will work with them both separately, privately, myself through my Spirit. They have not your gift, but they have others not known to you – known only to them.

Now go tomorrow with no expectations other than my continued love, support, and blessing. For I do love you. Amen.

When Cindy W came to church the next day, she told Greg her “heart wasn’t in it.” We decided to wait until the following Sunday.

Slight Change of Plans

The following Sunday (January 20), Cindy W wasn’t able to attend, but Cindy G was at church. Both Cindy’s were Elders, so either would be able to offer the sacrament, the laying on of hands.

I asked Cindy G if she would assist Greg, and she agreed. After the service, she and I walked down the long hall to the quiet, empty library room. I explained the situation very briefly while we waited for Greg to join us. “Is there something wrong with your eyes?” Cindy asked. 

“I’m just doing as I was told,” I said.

Just then, Greg came in and was anxious to get started. Cindy then put a drop of consecrated oil on my forehand, laid her hands on my head, and invited the presence of the Spirit.

Greg put his hands on my head as well. I sat there in quiet expectation, prepared to hear his prayer for the healing of my eyesight. Not that my vision would be immediately better. But that it would get there.

Greg began, “Let it be done to her as you will. Amen.”

I stood up. I thanked and hugged them both.

But internally, my brain was racing. Wait. What? That’s it?

A healing blessing like this is a gift, but this particular experience was kind of a letdown. Then I remembered that I was not to come with any expectations. Okay, then, let’s see what happens. 

There’s Seeing and There’s Seeing

The next day, I put in my contact lenses, and, wow, there was a brief second when I could read a small label. Then it passed, and once again, I couldn’t read the small print. Still, I felt I’d had a tiny glimpse of how wonderful it would be to be able to see without reading glasses again.

After that, every few days, as I fiddled with my contact lenses, I would think of the promise. Then I had to tell myself I wasn’t to speculate. 

Four weeks went by. I was scheduled to deliver the Sunday morning message. The topic was Trust God’s Promises for All. As I worked out what to say, the Spirit led me to focus on discovering what the promises were. As I did my research, I came across a whole lot of Bible verses about eyes and seeing (all from the New Revised Standard Version):

But blessed are your eyes, for they see; and your ears, for they hear. (Matthew 13.16)

Then he touched their eyes and said, “According to your faith let it be done to you.” (Matthew 9:29)

Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? (Mark 8.18)

Then turning to the disciples, Jesus said to them privately, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see! (Luke 10.23)

Hear this now, O foolish people, Without understanding, Who have eyes and see not, And who have ears and hear not. (Jeremiah 5:21)

Finally, it dawned on me…God wasn’t talking about my physical eyes. The blessing had been for my spiritual eyes. And honestly, that was a little disappointing. I was so ready to give up those darn reading glasses!

After a while, I forgot about the blessing. Months went by before I started noticing a shift. 

Gradually, I began to notice that as I read the scriptures, I could understand them more. I started to see the underlying message, and I could grasp what it meant for me. The blessing was manifesting.

Yet Still I Didn’t See

Fast forward to 2024, the year I wrote this book.

Saturday, March 2, 2024, I woke up early and glanced at the time. My phone said 5:30 a.m. Why could I hear the sounds of others moving about the house at this hour? Oh, right, it’s Saturday. We’re going out for breakfast to our usual place. I can doze for 45 more minutes.

But I couldn’t go back to sleep. With my brain now turned on, my thoughts began to skitter from topic to topic, until they turned to the current book project. This book. And to a question: whether or not to add another chapter. This chapter.

And then I had a sudden insight. I grabbed my smartphone, and began typing. 

What I realized on that chilly, moonless, early morning was this. 

Bless Your Eyes was a third gift, a third signpost, as the Creator was preparing me for a change of mission. 

What Happened in Greece was the gift of presence. It was the Spirit making Their presence known in an undeniable way. God was, and would be, with me.

Maria’s Visit was the gift of allowing me to mentally close the door on the old mission. Selling idols was a necessary evil for that mission, but the time had come to set them aside. 

Bless Your Eyes was a gift for the next mission — as a writer. It was the gift of being able to understand meaning below the surface of scripture, story, and experience.

Gifts of present, past, future. Three experiences, close together in time, whose relationship to one another had never before occurred to me. 

The Fractal Pattern Emerges

The thing is, I had written about all of them. I had told people about each of these events. I had spoken about them from the pulpit. But always as separate, distinct, unrelated events. 

No more. Now they were permanently bound into one volume, one story arc. My own personal Christmas Carol.

It was only now, at 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning, that the fractal pattern finally revealed itself to me.

Fractals in broccoli tops — image by Josef Schiller from Pixabay

In other words, the way my brain is wired and the gifts of maturing in the Spirit had converged into one glorious pattern I could at last appreciate — and share with others.

If you’re not a math nerd, this fractal business might feel a little foreign. Please allow me to explain. Simply put, a fractal is an infinitely repeating pattern. The concept was recognized and named by Benoit Mandelbrot in 1975. That was the year I finished college, meaning the concept was too new to appear in my math curriculum. I didn’t learn about fractals until the mid-90s, when reading aloud to my children Michael Crichton’s sequel to Jurassic Park — not long after I first learned to keep a spiritual journal. 

But back to my own fractal.

I hope you can now see, dear reader, the benefits of writing spiritual memoir.

Writing forced me to revisit my life, digging deeper and looking for patterns. And, like the fractals that recur everywhere in nature — snowflakes, clouds, crystals, leaves, even lightning — the patterns I have found are nothing short of miraculous.

Only in writing did I finally come to recognize and understand the extent of what God had done for me, now sixteen years ago. Thanks to writing, another piece of the puzzle has fallen into place.

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