Splinters in Eyes

 

As much to myself as to anyone in earshot, I sighed and lamented: ‘If I don’t wash those windows, I won’t even be able to see the sun streaming out of that clear blue sky!’ Joey, in the kitchen, heard me. When I returned from the grocery store an hour later, it was to find her up a ladder, polishing and shining the large conservatory windows. With real stick-to-it-iveness, this dear daughter-in-law worked her way round all the ground floor windows, then did them inside, too, including the glazed doors, and then she headed upstairs. I never would have had the energy to do them all over a weekend. A real gift of love, for which I am deeply grateful.

Deeply grateful, because it has sharpened the views from every perspective. I can see clearly now. The sun (when it comes out again…) can shine through unimpeded. My attention is no longer drawn to the swipe of bird dropping that splatted here, or the spots of fly dirt left there. Instead, I see beyond to the world God has created, to the snowdrops and crocus, the freshly dug earth and the tangle of twigs and branches from every tree.

Jesus advised not to judge another person or attempt to remove a splinter from their eye, without first removing the plank in your own eye. Splodge, a cat we had years ago, lived rough in the woods for several months when the arrival of a puppy put her nose out of joint. When we finally found her and brought her home, she had a thorn embedded in one of her eyes. The vet pronounced it inoperable, because time had caused the injury to heal with scar tissue which blinded her. It was too late to remove the ‘plank’. I am so accustomed to the plank in my own eye, that I don’t even realise it has blinded my vision. Jesus, may your gentle touch remove the plank which is there today, so that I can see clearly, with love and kindness, who and what you want me to see today.