Tuesday, 14 October 2014
When blindness is the only way forwards.
Perhaps I was a strange child (and that would explain a lot about my boys), but when I was younger I used to enjoy walking around the house with my eyes closed, pretending to be blind. I enjoyed the feeling of not quite knowing what was coming up next. It was vulnerable. I knew the layout, of course.
But sometimes, in my minds eye, I would imagine that a step or a piece of furniture was closer than it was in reality. I would move my legs and prepare myself for it only to have a surprise when I realised I hadn't quite reached it yet. Anyone else experienced this or is it just strange old me?
The thing is, the piece of furniture was still there. I just had a few more steps to take before I reached it. It hadn't disappeared.
It's the same with the dreams that have been planted, some very long ago, in my heart.
When you can't see what's in front of you and you walk by faith alone, sometimes you imagine things are closer than they really are. They feel close enough to reach out and touch, because your heart tells you that you simply cannot continue without knowing they are finally at your fingertips. Surely it's time to grasp hold of all that has been weighing heavy in your heart.
And when this happens to me, I begin to prepare myself for a different movement, excited that this is the time.
And then it isn't. And I'm surprised and confused.
And I have to do something with the dreams and promises that refuse to be pushed down any longer. I have to stop trying to peek out of the corner of my eye and remember that walking by faith is just that. It's not by sight. You can't see ahead, and you're not supposed to.
All I know is that there are some more steps to be taken. I can't jump from here to there. I have to walk it.
And I have to keep tight hold of those dreams for a while longer. They are still there, just like that piece of furniture, solid and waiting for me. I haven't made a mistake or got the wrong end of the stick. They hang there, over my days, like a banner calling me towards them. I can't turn around and head back now.
So, I keep my eyes closed and plod ahead, tentatively sometimes, grateful that my God knows the layout and will direct my steps. I keep learning to walk by faith, without peeking out through scrunched up eyes. Like my childhood game, it's vulnerable but it's the only way.