Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Clear Eyes

Today the gift I've been given is an hour, one whole hour for myself, with some extra minutes besides. So here I sit, fresh from an appointment at the optometrist, still wearing my vest, scarf, and yellow rain boots.

The bad news is, I didn't need glasses. (Cory was hoping... He has a bit of  a Tina Fey thing, okay? I'm sure he crushed on Lisa Loeb back in the day, too. I'll ask... Did you, Honey?)

The good news? I didn't need glasses.

It was my first visit with this doctor and what I really wanted to do was spend the rest of the day with her. Homegirl was drier than my hands in January. She walked in, took one look at my rain boots and said, "Wow. Your boots are LOUD. You probably stop traffic in those." I'll be honest, she seemed almost annoyed. They troubled her.

She grew more annoyed when she realized that my vision was "quite good". "You're one of those people", she said. I asked her, "Is my right eye still good? Because I've been feeling like it's not as good..." to which she replied, "It's very slightly not as good as your left eye, which is perfect. So maybe it's psychological. Or maybe you're just ultra sensitive after seeing everything so perfectly clear for your entire life."

Lord, I loved her. True story.

Now I sit here by the window and the house is mostly dark. A train screams down the tracks. Thunder rumbles outside and rain snakes the pane. This is one messed up January.

The day after our visit with Robert we got an automated email saying he had been transported to prison. I'd spent the morning smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. This was my status update on facebook: Yesterday's awesomeness keeps bleeding unexpectedly into today. Love it when that happens!

Within 30 minutes we got the news.

I won't bore you with a detailed account of everything we felt at that moment and in all the moments to follow, but I'll say this, you can know something is imminent but it doesn't lessen the sting when it happens. I felt sucker-punched for days. I cried almost every time I was in my car. He's far away and I feel it. We didn't get to say goodbye. We won't see him for at least a month. We won't even talk to him. 

I worry about my boy. Yes, he tattooed FEARLESS down the entire length of his forearm, but you and I both know better. We grieved. Calvin and Ruby grieved. And all I can do is guess about how Robert is handling it.

So right here is a new step of faith. Our toes inch ever-forward and we cling to the things we know for sure. We will them to never leave our minds, and especially his.

Amid this hurt, I look back to that night in the windowless room and I sit in wonder over the ways God loves us. His timing could not have been improved. He knew the whole future and made sure Robert went away wearing the fresh hug of our love for him.

He's somewhere temporary right now, but we'll keep waiting for the news and then we'll settle in to a new routine.

After my eye appointment the receptionist gave me a little card with my next appointment - February 2015. My instant thought was, The next time I'm here, this will all be over. He'll be home.

Happy rainy Tuesday, friends. Hope your day feels scrubbed with the knowing that all you are is completely loved.