Scrumptious Word Morsels

O, Mexico, how I love thee. Thy joyous people, thy sugar-laden sodas, and thy rocks that break off into small pieces and impregnate thineselves into my left eye.

For the record, the mighty Mexican rocks were simply no match for my pickaxe-wielding fervor. The magnitude of my work was simply too much for Mexico to handle, and thus, the rocks had no choice but to crumble under my strength. Yeah, but seriously, a rock fragment broke off and became lodged in my eye, and that really explains the irritation I was describing in the previous post. The upside is that I saw an ophthalmologist yesterday who removed the foreign object and gave me some antibiotic eye drops, and now things are starting to feel better.

The day before (Sunday—Easter Sunday, actually), I went to urgent care to get some treatment, but the guy there couldn’t find anything wrong with me. During the ordeal, I discovered that I still have 20/20 vision, though. After all these years of staring at computer monitors, who would’ve thought? I also learned that I once wanted a pirate eye patch when I was younger. According to my mom, who’s a reliable source for my entire life history, I had an allergic reaction in one eye, and I begged for an eye patch because I thought it would make me cool.

I thought the eye patch story was ironic in a way, because I was suffering from something that was completely curable, yet I wanted to block out half my vision just for the fun of it. I think we can get like that in life and in our relationships sometimes. We’re perfectly fine and capable of seeing things accurately, yet we choose to block our sense of the situation and only see what we want to perceive. Let’s take the pirate patch off today and ask God to show us things how he sees them. After all, let he who has ears to hear, hear; and let he who has eyes to see, see. Let’s never take our physical or spiritual vision for granted.

There are many things in life that I don’t think I appreciate fully until they’re gone. Vision is one of those things. Think about it, though: every morning, I wake up, I open my eyes, light passes through the cornea, lens, and retina of each eye, and I can see. And thankfully, I’ve always had pretty good vision (20/20 or better without corrective lenses). For the past three days, however, my left eye has been extremely irritated. It’s all red and bloodshot, it hurts to touch (I know, I know—”then don’t touch it, stupid!”), and it’s sensitive to light.

I’m going to see an ophthalmologist tomorrow, but in the meantime, eye drops have been helping for a few minutes at a time. Out of all the senses I have (all five of them, that is), sight is not the one I’d pick to be impaired permanently. And although not being able to smell or taste are enough to get a handicapped license plate and front-row parking in the grand state of Arizona, I don’t think I’d want to lose those, either.

Basically, I guess I’m trying to say that this situation reminds me of 1 Corinthians 13:12:

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

More on this thought later, but now I’ve got to go and rest my eyes.

I just wanted to take a minute to wish everyone a merry Christmas. I refuse to say “happy holidays” or “season’s greetings”, because, according to my secular calendar, today is still known as Christmas. On the other hand, if you celebrated Hanukkah earlier this month, happy Hanukkah/Chanukah/Hannukah/et al. If you be celebratin’ Kwanzaa tomorrow, have a trippin’ Kwanzaa fo’ shizzle.

I’ll leave you with this awesome light show set to “Wizards in Winter” by Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

I won’t do it. I refuse. You’ll never find me with a Christian fish on the back of my car. I don’t have anything against the ubiquitous little symbol. I just don’t want to advertise that I’m a Christian, because I don’t always drive like it.

Like today, for example. On my way home from church, an older man and his wife nearly ran me off the road. Then they cut me off, flipped me off, and generally ticked me off. They stayed in front of me for almost the entire ride home, and they must have been doing at least 65 mph in a 45 zone. Until they turned into Casas Church, that is.

This post isn’t a knock against people who go to Casas. It’s a knock against all people everywhere who call themselves Christians and then live like hell (myself included, sometimes). Let’s be mindful of how we drive, how we act in public, and how we live our lives, because “we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us” (2 Cor. 5:20).