Susan LaffertyTwo years ago on this day, I sit beside my husband’s bed in the ICU. Two stents newly inserted into one of his arteries. Blood now flowing freely through his heart. In a place formerly 100-percent blocked.
Only hours before, we walk. Drive. Talk. Laugh. Following everyday routines. Ordinary schedules.
Not knowing danger lurks.
Oblivious to unseen, unnoticed blockage wreaking havoc. Beneath the surface. Under skin and flesh and vessel.
Hesitation.
The soul stutters. Protests weakness.
Earthen vessels live fragile at times.
Trying too hard when it’s time to be still. Waiting too long when it’s time to move.
Resisting when He says speak. Stalling as He calls me somewhere out of my current comfort zone.
Once 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.
