People Ask to Listen, But Do I speak?

As of my early bedtime last night, today was to be a snow day. Before the sun could arise in a blanket of rush hour delaying mush, I found nothing white to keep my sanity warm. Instead, the storm delayed and I lay in bed with no hope of work breaks or the joy of not being rushed in the wee hours of winter. Lying in bed, I felt the same queasiness that interrupts many happy moments or long late rests. Without the snow falling at this very moment, there is no hope for a timely delay. Instead, it was time to put on my boots and go early into work. But, tension mounted like toothpaste being purposefully squeezed in its capped tubing. I felt my legs hollow beneath my heavy head and puffy eyes. The pressure behind all my thoughts stirring like frozen slush in my head screamed for me to find an exit from this rushed day. Lying there, I tossed in a sea of misshapen blankets, and dove to the shallowest shore for a disappointing idea. I could call in sick with yesterday's news. But, I could not stop thinking of all the loose ends such as unpacked lunches, unfolded laundry, and endless other meaningless chores that would not be done in my honor. And then, I felt a piece of jagged ice crush in the back of my head. Another morning in the dark making decisions about petty things I worry about too much. It was time to reset my alarm, and later call my boss to tell her that my body was unable to make it in due to stomach upset. But truthfully, I had that yesterday. Clammy hands and cramping swells in my belly did not stop me as I awoke to utter gut wrenching pains on the day before today. However, another headache came like the breeze after a storm.
My boss demonstrated sympathy and informed me that one of her kids had some stomach upset as well. I found it odd that for once my body was not lying. But there I lied in a see of delusional failure. I hate to hide the truth, but the truth seems to find its way out into the light. The truth was that headaches rarely are enough of an excuse for work. For work is a headache most days. But, weeks filled with headaches will make you sick and risk feeling like a failure for a little while. All I wanted was some relief for a day. I just wanted to rest and release this squeezed tension pressing upon my skull. And, I would not find it lying there in my little bed.
I would have to get up and have my vision restored. According to my sister and WGN, it was not too bad to drive outside on this February morning. And, it was not too impossible for me to pop some more Excedrin and a cup of coffee to get me up and moving to Costco's Optometry Unit. Realizing that the world was not stopping for slushy moments, I gathered my rain boots and car keys and headed out my little safe realm into the land of bulk prices and free afternoon food samples.
Upon my entrance to bulk discount Mecca of the Western Suburbs, I admitted to being Cristine Schafer of Homestead Road and received notice that the optometrist would be slightly behind schedule due to an early car accident. That was the moment that chiseled deep in my mind and began to pick away at the ice crushing my heart the past couple months. Someone simply doing their job for me to have vision took a risk to be here for others and me. And, as I met my doctor, he was far from thrilled to be here for his long list of patients that day. Thankfully, for once, I could actually feel bad for this gorgeous man with a grumpy demeanor.
I sat there staring at a small cartoon house on a hill moving from clear to blurred view. From right to left eye, this house has been the same one I see every couple of years. It does not change despite the weather. Always, it sits upon a bright farm green hill with no cows or parked cars in its non-existent garage. Instead, it sits there for you to see it fade from clarity to a brightly blurred summer colors of whites, greens, blues, and reds. I never understand this part of the exam. Simply, like the house, I just sit there to let someone else try to figure out its purpose. But, as always, I never have a clue why I am staring at this same old little house. But, I do know that it is an important part of the procedure despite my ignorance.
Moments later, I am silent sitting in a chair spelling out letters that do not spell a word, but they answer if I can understand my own vision's competence. There in the chair, I sit waiting to see if I know my own capabilities to see the difference from blurriness to clarity. And, I begin to wonder if this doctor has heard an answer to a question he squeezed in after that house on the little hill. For a moment, I find that my answer was as simple and eschewed as these rambled letters.
Now, you are as lost as I for knowing the question floating between this and myself slightly tanned man closely staring into my eyes for health purposes. But, he was asking for truth. More so, his question beckoned a little vision outside the obvious answers his questions could have beckoned. While I sat blind about that little house and the rest of the routine procedures, he asked, "What is the difference of Christian Education and regular education?" Before I could respond with an answer, he tagged on, "And, don't just tell me religion." At that moment in the faux leather chair, I looked into my foggy mind for a clear answer and then back at his dark eyes, and responded, "Basically, I will work for a church and work with families and kids. It's like social work, but with Jesus." He repeated my response in a gently hushed tone, a slight departure from his previous grumpiness, and then asked me to keep my eyes open as he did the air puffer test. I never know how not to blink like a maniac after those tests. And, I never think that my answers about my future job are any different or intriguing as I wish them to be. But the fact of this morning was that all I was trying to do is survive. Survival does not bring about automatic clarity. It screams for hope but threw in the old gym towel after the last game.
But here in the sweaty eye locker room, I wanted for the game to not be over. I hoped that somehow I could try again to answer this question with more than an abbreviated reply. I wanted more, and I think that he did too. But, he was courteous enough to let me leave into the high sky rises of bulk paper towels and plasma televisions.
However, I left with only my contacts and headed into my fogged car window bubble to ask myself his question until I had an honest answer. I wanted to know an answer from myself. The music played in the background, and then it hit me harder than any headache. God loves me as miserable and unresponsive as I am when talking to gorgeously grumpy men. He loves me enough to let some stranger ask me the questions I have been too despondent to ask myself. And best, he loves me like that eye doctor. He sees my need to have some clarity in this winter mess and looks over my grumpiness because he wants me be released into his surrounding care. He loves me despite the fact that I fib and lie in bed with no care for others or myself. And then, the tears uncapped the pressure in my little heart and relieved the throbbing pain dwelling in my head. At that moment, I wanted to tell the doctor about One that wants us to learn that the most important things are invisible: the young lead the old, and the blind do see. I wanted to tell the doctor that answers are here among us. I wanted him to have a moment's relief from his burden. But, I drove to write this down that one day I might have an answer for others and myself on the most uncertain days. People are asking to listen, but there comes times when we must prepare to hear them that we might speak beyond ourselves. But thanks be to the Living One that uses the most blurred same old conversation on a little hill to stand out in our lives.