Though I started wearing contact lenses when I was sixteen, for a ten year period, my glaucoma – and its associated drugs – changed too frequently to make that comfortable or realistic. But, finally, things settled and stabilized, and in March of this year I ordered my first pair in a long, long time… which was subsequently delayed in arrival until …yesterday. I put them in with glee!
…And then realized I could see the dust in the corners of my house much, much more clearly.
All of this put me in mind of the Advent poem my friend Andi shared with our poetry group this past weekend.
Making the House Ready
Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice; it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.
– Mary Oliver
I love this poem – because more than anything else, it reminds me that nothing we do is ever complete – and we are surrounded by opportunity we might miss if we rush to make ready for “the important stuff.” Perhaps nothing is more important than now? Perhaps nothing is more vital than saying “come in” to whatever gift it is that is knocking? Today, I greet the opportunity to read with my new contact lenses – and ignore the dust in the corners for one more afternoon.