I’ve worn glasses since I was five years old, and as a child they were the bane of my existence. They were left beside playground posts, broken in rambunctious play, and often misplaced or in need of cleaning. It was frustrating sometimes for my parents who had to squeeze this expense out of a tight budget.
The glasses didn’t seem to contribute in any visible way. Sometimes it was quite the opposite, because the frames would obstruct my view and would slide down my sweaty nose in the summertime. As a child, I believed devoutly that the miracles of Bible stories could happen, and fervently petitioned God to grant me 2020 vision like most of the other kids had.
As time went on, that hope faded, along with other childhood beliefs, in the face of what felt like immutable earthly reality. Bodies seemed to be extrordinarily resistant to divine intervention in the dramatic ways I’d envisioned. It took years to realize that our physical bodies even in “ordinary” ways are miracles. We are “fearfully and wonderfully made” far beyond what we ever comprehend. I’d been so fortunate to even have the limited eyesight. And fortunate to have reading glasses as I grew older.
And then, as the year 2020 approached, I began to realize something else. I had been granted the gift of life all these years, seen so many blessings, appreciated the faces of my husband, children, and grandchildren, seen many beautiful places in the world, was able to read many books, to hold down a job.
And I have to appreciate God’s humour in our lives, his overflowing generosity beyond our limited requests. I was going to see 2020, but in a way I’d never anticipated.
How can we not love this Giver of all good things?