Terry Hershey

A farmer bought a new hunting dog. On their first duck hunting day, the farmer shots a duck, which falls into the lake. The retriever leaps into action, walking across the lake to retrieve the duck. The farmer rubs his eyes, incredulous. "I've got to see this again," he says out loud to the trees. Another shot, another duck plummets into the lake. Again, the dog eagerly trots across the water to fetch the duck. Beside himself, the farmer is giddy with delight.

"This is a miracle," he shouts, again to the trees. Wanting to share the miracle, he runs to his neighbor's house and urges him to return to the lake.

"Watch this," he instructs, "and tell me if you see anything unusual." A shot. A duck plummets. The retriever trots across the water and returns with the duck.

"Well?" the farmer asks eagerly.

"Hmmm," muses his neighbor scratching his chin, "I can't say that I notice anything abnormal."

He's nuts, the farmer is thinking. "Watch again. Concentrate this time." One more shot. Another duck. The retriever dutifully walks across the water to fetch it. "Ohhhh," the neighbor lights up with recognition. "Now I see what is different! I don't think you're dog can swim."

Scotoma means that we see want we want to see. It is a form of selective blindness. And it is no respecter of persons. There are a number of reasons for my own scotoma. I do not see the dog walking on the water because I want to be right, or normal, or in the mainstream, or theologically correct, or accepted, or afraid that anything out of the ordinary will rock my emotional boat.

I am stuck in my categories. Whether they be blinders of hatred, arrogance, prejudice, judgment, or animosity.

My blinders preclude me from seeing everything that is there. Ready for a simple test? Check out any FedEx truck (or company logo). Got it? What do you see? I see FedEx in purple and orange. Okay. Look again. This time, pretend you cannot read. This time, you will see an arrow. Clearly, between the E and X. This is interesting, because studies done with illiterate persons show that they see the arrow first, every time.

So. How do my blinders come off?

For some reason, some of us want to make it about willpower or effort, forcing us to see what is not really there. You know, like squinting hard to see the Mother of Jesus imprinted in a cheese sandwich (no, I did not make that up)(and yes, the woman auctioned this cheese sandwich on Ebay).

I really like the story about a blind beggar in the Gospel of John. People argued over what made him blind, and people argued over who's fault it was, and whether Jesus had the credentials to spit in the mud and make a poultice. But to the blind man it didn't matter. He simply said, "All I know is a while ago I was blind, but now I can see."

It has something to do with letting go.
When you let go, you can be grateful for what you receive.
When you're grateful, you don't have to have every question settled.
It's enough just to celebrate, whatever it is that made you grateful.
The farmer's secret? He saw himself as the luckiest man on earth. He was giddy, childlike.

The corollary is Jesus' comment, "Unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven."

One day St. Francis Xavier retired to his cell exhausted from lack of sleep. He instructed the monks to allow no interruptions. A moment later he came back to clarify his orders, "of course, if a child comes, please awaken me."

In his book Finding God in Unexpected Places, Philip Yancey talks about a South African woman named Joanna, who began a prison ministry that radically transformed one of her country's most violent prisons. When Yancey asked her how she did it, she said: "Well, of course, Philip, God was already present in the prison. I just had to make Him visible."

If that is true,
if God is present,
if there are no unsacred moments,
then all of it, including you and me, our ordinary and maybe annoying co-workers, even hunting dogs walking on water,
all of it comes from God, and it is the material that explodes with God's light.

Children live in a world of dreams and imagination, a world of aliveness. Playing Superman and feeling alive, hearing a voice deep inside, a warm and loving voice, a living, believing, voice, a wild and dangerous voice. Then he realized he couldn't fly after all, and his God-hearing went bad. There is a voice of wonder and amazement inside all of us; but we grow to realize we can no longer hear it, and we live in silence. It isn't that God stopped speaking; it is that our lives became louder - the increasing crescendo of our possessions, the ear-piercing noise of busyness, and the soul-smothering volume of our endless activity drowned out the still, small voice of God. It happens gradually. Mike Yaconelli

We thank Thee.
For Thy miracles which are daily with us,
For Thy continual marvels.
Jewish Prayer

Why I am Happy
Now has come, an easy time. I let it
Roll. There is a lake somewhere
So blue and far nobody owns it.
A wind comes by and a willow listens
Gracefully.
I hear all this, every summer. I laugh
And cry for every turn of the world,
Its terribly cold, innocent spin.
That lake stays blue and free; it goes
On and on.
And I know where it is.
William Stafford

For Everyday Blessings
Dear God,
Open my eyes to the beauty of this day.
The yellow of an egg yolk in a blue bowl.
The scent of bacon frying in the pan.
The soft caress of the morning breeze.
The sound of children at play.
Awaken my senses.
Let me see, hear, and feel the beauty around me.
And be aware of the presence of the Great Artist in my everyday world.
William Webber

Dear God,
May the walls
which keep me separate--
from my brothers,
my sisters,
my self,
and You--
now melt.
May the thoughts
and feelings
which keep me in hell,
be dissolved
forever.
AMEN
Marianne Williamson

Peace,
Terry Hershey

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