What Do You See?

Faith is being sure of what we hope for. It is being sure of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Ken found me rummaging through the cupboards before the sun came up, an empty Easter basket in my hand.  "Sweetheart," he gently asked, "What are you doing?"  Turning to him with tears in my eyes, I whimpered, "I haven't been able to find anything to put in your Easter basket."  With an understanding smile, he pulled me into his arms and whispered, "It's OK, darling."

Standing there together, I thought about the ways in which we would celebrate different holidays before Ken and I entered international service.   A loyal disciple of Martha Stewart, I always made sure our home was decorated.  It didn't matter how important the holiday was for me.  I was determined that it would be special for my family.  So that morning, as I sobbed and apologized, I came to the conclusion that I had not only failed my husband, but I had probably let Martha down as well.

I was still in a bit of a funk as we left the quarters to conduct the Easter meeting.  But as I stepped out the door, I spied a lovely lily in our garden. "Look!" I shouted.  "Have you ever seen an Easter lily around here?"  Ken and our driver just shrugged their shoulders. "It's an Easter miracle just for me!" I yelled.

Believe it or not, it was only a few minutes later that I saw a baby lamb on the side of the road.  No, really.  Then, as we were driving into the compound in which we would worship, I saw not one, but two rabbits.  I could hardly contain myself.  As we got out of our vehicle, I exclaimed to the District Officer,  "There are two bunnies over there!" Oddly, he didn't see my announcement as big news, but I nevertheless turned to our driver, gave him my phone, and said, "Take some pictures of my miracle!"

Sitting in the corps quarters a few minutes later, I found myself listening to a conversation about the Army's primary school in that community.  And for no reason in particular, it suddenly occurred to me that I had never seen a Kenyan child with glasses. I asked about this, and I was told that most families simply can't afford glasses.  Parents rely instead on herbal remedies, and when that doesn't work, the children simply drop out of school.  They can't read a book, they can't see the blackboard, and they can't take the tests.  My heart broke.  The solution was so simple.

A Typical Class in Our Schools

On the way home, the two strands of thought came together. I thought about my Easter miracles and about the children who couldn't see the blackboard.  I remembered something that Thoreau wrote:

"It's not what you look at that matters.  It is what you see."

It's easy to be blinded by the glare of the physical world, and without the spectacles of faith, our vision of what is and what should be can be way off the mark.  The lily, the lamb, and the bunnies of my Easter Sunday could have been overlooked, dismissed as a mere coincidence.  Or maybe, just maybe, they were a gift from a loving God to his homesick child, telling her that no matter where she is, she's home.

So tell me.  What do you see?