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I’m not beautiful. Neither am I the “monster under the bed” that scares small children at night.

I’m just, well, I’m just me.

But blessed with pretty eyes.

Not blue. Not green. I’m told they’re hazel but they change dramatically with the colors I’m wearing.

Thus I’ve always played with eyeshadows and eyeliners and mascaras. I even went through a false eyelash stage!

Yup, I used the one good feature in my face to my advantage.

I was proud of my pretty eyes. So much so that years ago I had Lasik surgery because I didn’t want to wear glasses.

Vanity oh vanity!

I found out, too late, that I fell in that miniscule group of people that shouldn’t have had Lasik surgery.

My eyes were dry.  Itching. Burning. Bloodshot. And I had to wear glasses anyway.

I finally made my peace with that. After all, the fault was mine. No one had forced me to have this surgery.

Time went by. I settled for wearing cute glasses. And considered myself blessed to have my sight. Read: Hakuna Matata

Then, last Saturday afternoon as I sat knitting, a sharp pain shot through my right eye. I stopped knitting and rubbed my eyes. It only aggravated the pain. Which got worse through the night.

Sunday morning found me with distance double vision.

Two of everything.

Not even lined up.

Oh no.

One on top and one lower and to the right.

And fuzzy all over.


The pain came and went to attack again that night.

Full force.

The right side of my head joined in. My ear. My jaw. My teeth.

“Lord,” I prayed, “could you please, if it’s all the same to you, do something about this pain?”

Something that felt like a rubber band snapped in my head.

The pain descended to bearable levels.

I breathed deep.

Sent a heartfelt prayer of thanks.

And laid down for what was left of the night.

It was a sorry specimen of humanity that dragged herself into the office of the eye surgeon the following day…


Acute angle attack. Forerunner to glaucoma. A medical emergency condition.

Surgery was scheduled. Both eyes. A couple of days apart.

Am I worried?


I’ve done all I can.

The procedure is in the hands of a skilled surgeon.

The outcome?

God willing my “pretty” eyes will be, maybe not “pretty,” but my sight restored.

I’ve thought long and hard about my five senses and how I take them for granted.

And added to my Lenten list of prayers a special prayer for those who live with impaired sight. And for their caretakers.

2 Cor. 5:7 “For we walk by faith and not by sight.”

Cyber hugs and Blessings All as you start your Lenten Journey.

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