Roger Bothwell | His Glasses
761
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His Glasses

He could not find them. Somewhere in his house his glasses were hiding from him. Were the glasses laughing at him as he walked past them searching first in the obvious places and then in the obscure? They had to be in the house. He had driven home with them and had not left the house without them. Fiendishly they mocked him as they watched him crawl about on hands and knees peering under a couch, pulling the cushions off his favorite chair. This was great sport for them. He threatened punishment—a good bath—should he apprehend them. In the meantime, he was grateful for an old pair that worked fairly well even if the prescription was different. However, his eyes struggled to adjust to the different lenses.

It is a challenge to see things differently. We like our usual ways of looking at people and ideas. It is far easier to change our socks than it is to change our minds. Two people see and hear the same thing and yet each sees and hears something different. What we see or hear is the product of the event liberally sprinkled with pinches of prejudices, predispositions, religious beliefs, family loyalties and what we want to see and hear.

“Who can discern his errors?” Psalms 19:12

Written October 28, 2002