Since turning 40 a year ago, I have noticed a sharp decline in my visual abilities. After a life of perfect vision, I am continually surprised that I cannot see the eye of a needle, the details of my husband's face when we kiss, and my armpits when I try to shave them in the shower. It is a humbling feeling to so vividly understand that something is shutting down in this machine of mine. Recently, I was even more humbled when I shopped for cheap reading glasses at the local junk store and stood near giggly teenagers wearing their short shorts and flip flops. It was like looking at my sister and me over twenty years ago. Peachy skin, tanned legs, carefree silliness. I felt quite moldy.
So now I find myself saying things like, "Now, where did I leave my glasses?" and "Let me get my glasses!" I have added a pause to my life. I can't just pick up a book and start reading
or remove a splinter on the fly. I have to stop and get my glasses first.
This is frustrating.
Somehow I know there is a message in all this. What am I supposed to learn from this experience?
Enter Yoda. My children both have Yoda moments. These are moments when they speak nothing but truth that I need to hear. My 9 year old said something the other day that stuck with me. We were having breakfast and she said, "Mom, I don't understand that phrase about nothing being perfect. To me, life is perfect. We have a nice house and a good family and nice friends. Seems pretty perfect to me."
She wasn't dreamy-eyed about it. She was quite matter-of-fact.
I realized she was responding to a woman she knows
who gripes and complains about what she doesn't have.
I heard her message.
I think the new pause in my life is one that I need.
It's time to question how I perceive what is in front of me.
Do I really see it?
So now I have turned into one of those ladies who can never find her glasses.
So far, they have never been on my head all along.
But I know that day is coming.