Susan LaffertyOnce a year, I see it.
Visual of my blindspots.
Patterns of grey and black mapped out on a screen in the ophthalmologist’s office.
In life, blindspots can creep in. And continue. Unnoticed. Never addressed.
Endangering vision and obedience.
Temporary place. A familiar part of the faith journey.
Each stop. Stirring mute awareness in the back of my mind. And the depths of my soul.
This is not for always. But only for a season.
No matter where we move. Set up house. And make a home.
In flight, I glance out the window. Plane views offering perspective. Patterns visible from 20,000+ feet.
As a kid, I begged for a seat by the window. Delighting in views as we gained altitude.
Watching tiny cars travel small, neat lanes. Between miniature houses all lined up in rows. Rivers curving, shining in the sun through cities and countrysides.
Fields of various colors appearing so perfectly arranged. In squares and rectangles.
On clear nights, myriads of lights indicated cities, towns, villages far below. Captivating. Spurring on my imagination.
