can i get my sight back?

It’s the first day of class, one of those large classes that can make grad school frustrating. Too many bodies. Too many opinions. Too many reasons to think my ideas aren’t necessarily the brightest. But I respect the professor so I’m here. To my surprise, we don’t begin with the usual introductions of selves and syllabus. Instead, our professor boldly probes: “If you could ask God for just one thing, what would it be?” I immediately have my answer but quickly determine to keep it quiet as I listen to fellow classmates say, “Save me” and “Save my family.” Those are the right answers, the good pastor answers, the true shepherd answers. My answer is completely wrong, self-seeking, ridden with pain. But perhaps I can pride myself in knowing it’s actually a question which the act of asking creates. My answer is, “God, can I get my sight back?”
Not that many people know about my eye and those who know don’t always realize the degree to which it affects me—it just looks lazy. The truth is, I had a stroke. (At least, that’s what the doctors said. A friend recently put me on the idea that perhaps it’s related to my C2 which a chiropractor could have fixed had I gone to one right away. But that’s not at all conclusive on a professional level so I’ll leave it alone for now and return to the stroke idea.)
There. I wrote it, a much easier task than saying it. The memory of that Sabbath morning in 2004 when my left eye became clinically blind is still fresh. My lack of depth perception still frustrates me. I still wish I could be the goalie in a soccer match or the receiver in a flag football game. I still wake up every now and again wondering if today is the day God would like to perform a super miracle in my life after which I’d tell the world, help us all believe in miracles. And even though it still hurts, I’ve essentially come to terms with the idea that God’s reply is, “No.”

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