My Mother's Eyes

I wish I had my mother’s eyes.

No, I’m not talking about the color or shape of her eyes, as beautiful as they are. Nor am I talking about her eyesight (mine is actually better). I’m talking about her ability to see God’s hand in every aspect of life. I guess that's another way of saying that I wish I had her perspective.

My mother is coming up on her 85th birthday but still has the wonder and awe of a child. She has this amazing gift of being able to appreciate God's presence in the smallest details of life. Recently, we were making small talk when she said, “Just the other day, I was reading a book and this tiny dot was moving across the page. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me but then I realized it was the teeniest, tiniest little insect I ever saw. I was thinking about how they say that all of God’s creatures have a purpose and I was watching this little fellow crossing the page of my book, wondering what purpose it served in God’s creation and realizing that God alone knows!”

Me? I probably would’ve swatted the little thing!

Which is precisely why I wish I had my mother’s eyes. Somewhere along the way, she learned to recognize God’s presence in everyday living and in the smallest details of life. Unlike the color of a person’s eyes, this trait is not inherited but is learned. Each one of us can learn to see with the eyes of faith—eyes that reveal the presence of God all around us and in our everyday lives and experiences. Like corrective lenses, the Gospel of Jesus and the presence of the Holy Spirit can help us to see more clearly so that we can love the Lord more dearly and follow him more nearly.

OK ... I’m not making this up. As I wrote that last paragraph, a tiny fruit fly flew across my field of vision.

Thankfully, I did NOT swat it. Perhaps there is hope for me yet!