I have reached he age where a few “cheater” reading glasses lie about my home. Some years ago it disturbed me greatly to realize that age was having its way with me and I was diagnosed with presbyopia: a fancy way of saying my eyes are old. Since my eyes are original equipment, I guess that says something for the rest of me as well.
While my eyesight at close ranges is noticeably deficient for things I once took for granted, like reading or tying a fly to my tippet, my distance vision seems unaffected (probably an optical delusion). In fact, it seems even more clear than it once was likely due to the comparison with fuzziness of my reading vision.
Eventually I learned to cope with the need for glasses and contacts (thankful I am for those). But I have noticed that with the impairment of my reading vision, I miss out on many details once obvious to me. I more often misspell words and get the syntax wrong. I might miss an unruly hair of two in the mirror that need grooming, or a few whiskers that escape my razor.
Perhaps this is one of God’s ways of preparing me for forever. Details that once infatuated, entranced or entangled me now seem less important. My eyes strain for the horizon; for what is over the next hill or around the next bend. I care less about what is at my feet, desiring rather to focus in to what lies beyond my limited reach. As its it with the physical, so to it is with the spiritual.
The weight and wants of this world begin to lighten, loosing my ties to mortality in preparation for the immortal. Not now, perhaps not even soon, but someday I will release my grip on one to hold to the other. And lest I cling to tightly to the temporal, the Creator gives me increased vision for the eternal. For farsightedness.