Whoe! That's a Big One!

I think technology has gone beyond its limits. In fact, I think it’s gotten down right scary. I hope you don’t mind me being a bit bold, blunt and maybe big mouthed about it. Technology advances are for the most part wonderful enhancements for us all. Except when they invade our privacy.

Here’s my story: Yesterday, Tuesday I went like an innocent lamb to the eye clinic to have the pesky cataracts removed. No big deal. Simple procedure. And for me really no great drama--the cataracts made no difference to my vision since my blindness has to do with the deterioration of the retina. I had agreed to the procedure to avoid fluid build-up and infection from setting in.

So, as part of the pre-op routine, I signed all kinds of consent forms, got connected to a myriad of wires, monitors, and tubes. And then finally, I went to la la land for the procedure.

Little did I know that in the screen, prominently positioned in the waiting room, I was the feature star! While folks stretched comfortably, and possibly crunching on breakfast bars they gazed at the huge screen. Each detail in full color displayed the steps of my surgery. I later learned that most gasped at the size of the cataract. And oohed and aahed at the maneuvering the surgeon had to tackle in order to remove it.

Fair is fair. I don’t believe I should’ve been the star of the day without royalties or at least received an invitation to sign autographs afterwards.

No such thing—just my eyelid peeled back, exposing every bit of the removal of the gigantic cataract (which, by the way, I had nothing to do with its incredible growth).

Afterwards, the surgeon did inform me he had to resort to a different technique because of its size. Did I need to know that? Don’t think so.

But neither those in the audience in the waiting room nor the doctor knew my secret. I had undergone similar surgery a long, long time ago.

It dealt with my heart. I housed an enormous burden. The bitterness for losing my sight at 31 and the emotional tornado that tore through my marriage because of it.

I hadn’t realized it’d grown to such proportions until I entered the clinic of my Savior.

And when I sign the consent form, He removed the thick film of resentment and anger. I had an audience back then—my family who saw the transformation, my husband who breathed relief at my acceptance and my friends who scratched their heads at my zest to move forward in spite of my blindness.

With the burden removed, I saw my path clearer, and with 20/20 acuity, I could see the long distance He’d taken me—from sorrow to serenity and from resentment to restoring peace.

Looking back, both procedures deemed necessary—one to avoid infection, and the other to keep me from living a life of gloom.

I pray you don’t have a need for such surgery. Rather, you have surrendered your burden freely, voluntarily and conscientiously before it grows to massive proportions.

Like cataracts, negative emotions can grow blocking our view of what God planned for our life.

Rev. Steve Mitchell puts it this way, "Whatever burden we surrender to God, he takes it, cleanses it, fills it and uses it."

And God's Word says, "Give your burdens to the Lord, and he will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall."

Psalm 55:22 (NLT)

Janet

P.S. The 14^th…a secret to be revealed.