One Last Look

* I am truly touched by each of your comments, prayers and support.  Thank you so very much.*

What if you were suddenly informed that you might lose all, or most, of your vision?

What would you want to see, one more time, before your eyes dim?

Unfortunately, that is a question I have asked myself, as doctors recently informed me that I was at risk of losing my eyesight*.

Some might say they want to gaze upon the faces of loved ones.

Those are already etched upon my heart -- even the faces of those not often seen.

Some might say a beautiful garden.

I will still be able to smell the roses, feel velvety blossoms and rough textured bark, and walk barefoot through grass that tickles my toes.

No, I would want to see home one last time.

Home is Amarillo, Texas.

It is where I was born and raised.  It is where my parents lie in eternal rest.

But what I loved most was probably what others would find least pleasant.

It is flat.

Flatter than your kitchen table flat!

The flat land stretching out as far as one can see is what welcomed me home from chaotic college days, from the rat race of young adult life in a huge city, from the disappointment of a failed first marriage, from the tiring days of parenthood. 

It even welcomed me home to care for a mother battling cancer, and later an elderly father.

Nothing, as far as the eye could see, except sky meeting earth.

But in that first glimpse, my mind would clear.  I could breathe.  It did not matter what I had left behind, or what news might greet me.

There was peace and a serenity in that flat land.

It was home and beautiful to me.

What else would I want to see one last time?

It is somewhat similar.  Only this time, it is sky meeting water.

As a girl raised in the dry prairies of Texas, I did not have too much experience with oceans and beaches.

But once discovered, I was head over heels!

Some may find the ocean intimidating.

I find it just the opposite.

I find it empowering, yet calming.

It makes me realize just how big my God really is. 

And lastly, I would want to see Christmas.

Don't we all love to see the splendor and beauty of the holidays?

Whether it is the memory of our childhood holidays, or those made with our children, it is one of life's greatest joys.

It is ornaments and decorations lovingly passed down through the ages.  It is lights that twinkle and candles that glow, spreading cheer in the shortest days of the year.

It is smiles on everyone's faces and reassurance of good and joy and peace.

So, as I prepare for surgery intended to save and preserve my current vision,

I will cling to these images.

I will remember the flat beauty of home and breathe.

I will remember the ocean and know that God is in charge.

I will remember the faith, hope and joy that was born at Christmas.

I will believe that the Greatest Physician will guide the hands of my surgeon and heal my eyes.

And in the meantime, I ask that each of you do all that I cannot:

stitch, create, decorate, appreciate and enjoy these sunny summer days.

My family and I covet your prayers.

My greatest prayer is that I will see you here again --

soon.

In the meantime, I have scheduled a few posts.  You may not even realize I am gone!

So, what would be your last thing to see?


*My vision problems are complications of Graves Disease, a form of hyperthyroidism.  It has caused my optic muscles and tissues to enlarge, placing tremendous pressure on my optic nerves.  If left untreated, the nerves would continue to be compressed, die and render me sightless.  During surgery, portions of my eye socket walls will be removed to provide room for the enlarged muscles and tissue.  This should prevent additional damage to my optic nerves.  Each eye will be done during separate surgeries over the coming weeks.  Additional surgeries to correct double vision may be necessary later.
The first surgery is scheduled for 8:oo am, June 30.