Fort Davis is a tourist town and we invite everyone to come and visit us.  We love this place and want to share it.  Here’s a little hint, though:  I drive a silver Chevrolet pickup with a clergy sticker in the front windshield and an emergency light bar on top.  If you see it coming, clear the sidewalks!

It’s actually September 22nd and it would seem that Mother Nature was glaring right at her calendar when her alarm clock began to ping.  Fall blew in right on time this year.  Yesterday was the last day of summer and it was a blustery 89° outside.  This morning we awoke to temperatures of 48° with the wind blowing at 26 mph.  The seasons are changing.

Adding to the dreariness, we also awoke to the reality that our 14 year old Australian Shepherd/ Border Collie cross met with some intestinal discomfort during the night.  Trust me when I tell you that’s all the details you want there!  While I was cleaning that rather gruesome mess, my lovely bride announced that one of the twins has a fever.  I’m working from the house today as I hang out with a girl child who is angry with me because I won’t let her go to school to take her first grade math test (I have to wonder if she will meet future exams with an equivalent amount of enthusiasm?)!  Yup... turning out to be a banner day at the Miles’ house.

As we were dropping the other two kids off at their respective places, it occurred to me that it was darker at 7:30 than it has been recently.  My immediate suspicion is that it has something to do with the rather large formation of blackish looking clouds in the eastern sky.  Already dim at that time of day, we are only moving toward darker morning hours which brings a new cause for alarm in my life.

For a little over a year now, my eyesight has been somewhat off.  Oh shoot, let’s admit that my eyesight has been horrible most of my life.  I have been wearing glasses since the 5th grade.  When I first started needing them, I remember not being nearly as eager to wear my spectacles as my daughter is to go and take her arithmetic exam this morning.  As I got older and as my classmates began to lose the desire to call me names like “four eyes” all the time, I finally got used to it.  Eventually, I grew to appreciate that I could get a new prescription when things started to become fuzzy.

Last summer, I received my new glasses and knew immediately that I was still not quite seeing right.  Attributing that to the fact that there is a period of adjustment, I ignored it for a time.  Denial is a wonderful thing!  It’s a three hour drive to get to my ophthalmologist, so I put off the inevitable fact that I was going to have to confront somebody at some point.  It was obvious that either the doctor had missed the prescription or the people who made the glasses had made a mistake in filling it.  Driving grew increasingly difficult as time wore on.  Driving at night has just become frightening so I finally broke down and headed to Odessa to face the music on Friday.

A quick view of the glasses at the doctor’s office told us his prescription was perfectly matched.  If the glasses were okay,  that meant that the prescription must be wrong.  After several tests, it turns out that my eyes have not changed and that they are as corrected as they can be.  So the obvious question had to be asked;  “Why can’t I see?”  The doctor explained to me that that happens to folks who have cataracts.  

CATARACTS?  

I’m too young for that!

Friday was a depressing day.  As I struggled with reading road signs in a city I don’t navigate every day; as I tried to see down aisles in stores while we did the inevitable shopping done by all rural folks in urban settings; as I tried to keep an eye on my kids playing with a bunch of other kids, I grew sadder and sadder by the moment.  My doctor has told me we have to wait to treat this problem.  For how long?  We don’t know.  But we have to wait.  And in the mean time, I cannot see well.  My frustration must continue for a time.

I’m certainly not the first one to whom this has happened.  As early as Genesis, we read that Isaac grew old and his eyes were so weak he could not tell the difference between his two sons.  It’s just that I have the distinct honor of being the youngest person I know with this problem.  But here’s the thing.... this is fixable.  I’m still trying to learn all the particulars but I understand that cataracts have to get “ripe for the pickin’”  before they can be treated.  Then it is a really simple procedure.  When I asked my doctor what I was to do about it in the mean time, he said, “be careful.”  Thanks Doc!

Friends will joke about my blindness.  I’ll even make an occasional quip about this to beat down the annoyance over my ever dimming sight.  But the truth is that I am so very blessed.  There are truly blind people in this world.  There are those who have never seen light or color and those who have suffered horrible injuries who’s sight simply and suddenly left them.  There are also those who suffer some disease of the eye that, at least with modern technology and understanding, will not be healed.

And... there are those who are blind to the goodness of God.  In this world are those who suffer anger and loneliness and torn relationships.  It’s hidden behind racism and sexism and it’s found in the form of violence in their own homes.  It’s hidden in the lack of listening to enemies and friends.  It is camouflaged behind the judgement of others.  I may have the beginnings of cataracts... but at least I can see!

As the seasons change in my life, I’m thinking of 11 year old Cole who had surgery for brain cancer yesterday.  I am thinking of those who suffer the cold without shelter.  I am thinking of those who live without love in their lives or food in their bellies.  Maybe my daughter has a stomach bug and my dog made a mess.  Maybe I don’t see well at the moment... All things considered, though, my life is really, really good.  Thanks be to God.

My friend, Jim Fowler, reminded me this week that you can see God better without eyes.  Not bad... not bad at all.  Thanks Jim.