It's Not Always What It Seems and That May Be a Good Thing

From my vantage point, relaxing in my beach lounge, I saw this guy spending a lot of time looking and looking on the beach, then I saw him with some sort of stick and maneuver it all around this certain spot. I just knew he had a metal detector and was moving in on a treasure. When he started digging in that spot, I had to get closer to his big "find". I paced myself over to him and said, "Are you looking for a hidden treasure?" He looked up, smiled and said, "No, just trying to find a good spot to plant my umbrella!" LOL! It wasn't what it seemed.

Recently, I read this short story:
"Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to receive his daily medical treatment. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by the description of activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a beautiful lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers held hands and walked amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man described his view from the window in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One morning, the nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. To his surprise the window faced a brick wall.

The man called for the nurse and asked what could have compelled his deceased roommate to describe such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

I thought about the umbrella planter (my reality thought it was a hidden treasure) and this story about the blind man (his reality was a beautiful world to share with his friend). Another story is one of great faith found on the wall of a concentration camp. A prisoner had carved these words:
"I believe in the sun, even though it doesn't shine. I believe in love, even when it isn't shown. I believe in God, even when He doesn't speak." I can't even imagine how this prisoner had that kind of conviction about his faith. His eyes beheld horror. His spiritual eyes beheld God and His goodness. That prisoner, that man in the hospital bed by the window -- chose to see with eyes of faith, with eyes that chose to see the unseen.

Despite what we "naturally" see -- pain, sadness, reasons to worry and be afraid -- there is tremendous joy in seeing the world around us with faith, joy, optimism and gratitude. When our outlook and expectations include sun-filled days, blessings overtaking us, hope for tomorrow and appreciation for all we have, then we'll always be describing birds singing, children playing, blue skies, lovers holding hands, and we'll be singing "And I think to myself -- what a wonderful world!" Today is a gift, that is why it is called the present.

Psalm 119:18 "Open my eyes so that I will observe amazing things from your instruction."