Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
Coach Eric Taylor—Friday Night Lights
Our eyes are the most amazing organs. According to a TEDed talk, they evolved over about 500 million years. Think of all that our eyes make possible, if we have the privilege of sight. Morning sunrises, the face of someone we love, the fine print of an agreement before signing, the winning field goal in the last seconds of game, the first smile of a baby, the last moments of a life, the first buds on a branch and the last leaf to fall to the ground. Our eyes enable us to take in the world in all its complexity and diversity, to recognize friends and get a good look at strangers. Our eyes make it possible for us to better navigate the world around us. I say all of this as a sighted person, knowing that there are people without sight who have developed other ways of seeing the world, perhaps even better than I can.
Our eyes change over time, at different rates for different people. I’ve worn glasses since I turned 40, an age at which many others suddenly find that they need a little help to see the world more clearly. At our annual eye doctor appointments yesterday, we each went through all of the tests. Looking at the wee farm in the distance with the bright blue sky, green fields and white fence, the technician took multiple shots to get a good view of the backs of our eyes. The puff of air to test pressure, and then time with the ophthalmologist who tested our vision with those familiar rows of letters. Switching lenses she asked, “Which is better? One or two? Three or four?” And so on and so on until she landed on the lens that would best help us to see well in the world in which we live.
My prescription change was so slight, I don’t need new glasses this year, but my geologist does. Out in the lobby we shopped new frames for him. Over the years, and with a little help from me and the passel of daughters we share, he’s developed a taste for fashionable-yet-classic eyewear. As he moseyed around the room trying on various frames, I noticed a fellow human nearby. He looked of the age that he had recently started needing glasses. Long beard, casual dress, and a 1776 t-shirt. He topped it all off with a bright red Make America Great Again hat. Suffice it to say, I don’t own one of those.
I’m not sure exactly where the nudge came from, but I’ll call it a God thing. Moving a little closer to our fellow citizen, I asked him if he would be willing to help us out with the frame selection? Would he weigh in on which ones he liked the best, and help us break a tie if it came to that? Looking up from his phone, he took us in for a minute, and then smiled and said, “Sure.” For the next five minutes we were in the thick of it together. Thumbs up on those frames. Not so much on others. Then he brought up an app on his phone that he had used to help him pick good looking frames for himself. It was like a dating app to match the frames with the face. This guy had a ready smile, a twinkle in his eye, and a kindness to him that I could have easily missed if I had stopped at the hat. It was a moment of sweet connection with a stranger who, I am guessing, sees the world through a different lens than I do. A lens that spurred him to buy that hat, and have the courage to wear it. Just like I have developed my own lenses that spur me to such things too. Like my rainbow Seahawks t-shirt, and another one that reads: “Justice: It’s a Jesus Thing”. Political swag can say a lot about a person. But not everything.
Life has a way of hardening our lenses if we let it. Of keeping us stuck in an old prescription that no longer helps us see clearly. We put on glasses that let us see who and what we want, and turn a blind eye to who and what we don’t. To differentiate between us and them. To more quickly place blame there, but not here. Without proper lenses we can easily fall victim to confirmation bias, seeing only what we look for, and missing what we don’t. That dude in the MAGA hat sees things that I don’t. And vice versa. His experience has led him to view the world differently than me. And vice versa.
We have to start turning toward each other, in spite of the very different ways in which we see the world. None of us have it all right, and none of us have it all wrong. There are massive forces beyond our control that are hellbent on keeping us apart, and on turning our backs to one another. The only way to see the world more clearly is to turn towards each other, and be willing to see what others see. Things that we can’t. If we aren’t willing to do that, to move in a little closer, to look at the world through one another’s eyes now, we are in danger of losing sight of one another forever. And we will all lose.
Yesterday in that office, I caught a glimpse of another way. Behind those glasses, and underneath that hat, there was a fellow human. One who was willing to turn towards us. To help us. To look us in the eye. To get close enough to stand shoulder to shoulder and look at his very cool app. Walking out of the office I could feel it. My vision was a little more clear, and my heart a little more full.
It was a small victory.
One that could have only been won together.
