Closing Our Eyes
When I was a kid, I would get spooked really easily. Hearing sounds outside. Thinking I saw a shadow in my room. Sensing that maybe…. just maybe… there really was something in my closet or under my bed. Can you guess what I did? You might have done it too. Closed my eyes. Because if I can’t see you, you can’t see me…. Right? As we mature, we learn the concept of object permanence—that objects continue to exist even when they can’t be seen.
I closed my eyes out of fear.
When I was a new mom, or even a veteran mom with a new baby…. I was exhausted quite often. As, I think is fair to say, are most moms of newborns. Those every (few) hour feedings, the reflux, the colic, the diaper changes, washing bottles, washing diapers, and simply trying to allow our own bodies to heal after giving birth. Whew. Just remembering makes me tired. And I don’t know about you, but I would feel pretty darn good some days, when I got a shower, put on make-up and was out with friends, thinking to myself—I only got a cumulative 3 hours sleep last night and I can still do this! I would float into the next day and BAM! The exhaustion would hit… again. I would then remember why I needed to allow myself to sleep as often as possible.
I closed my eyes out of exhaustion.
I haven’t shared too much about them here, yet, but I have experienced 5 miscarriages. Following the last one, I needed a D&C. When my doctor came in after I was prepped for surgery, she began to go over the details of the procedure and I cut her off and told her that I didn’t want to know the details of what she was going to do, but that I trusted her to do what needed to be done. My heart was broken for the little girl who had been knit together in my womb; whose heartbeat I saw flickering on the screen just a week or so earlier; and whose heart had stopped, who had ceased to grow. As I was wheeled back to the OR, I was rather annoyed that I had male nurses, trying to make small talk on the way. However, once in the OR, when the nurse needed to verify which procedure I was having, and my tears started flowing, he showed such compassion and kindness. For many months after that, every time I closed my eyes to sleep, those tears of brokenness started flowing.
I closed my eyes out of heartache.
I don’t tell you these stories to feel sorry for me, and I am absolutely certain that if we could sit around a living room, wearing comfy clothes and sipping our coffee or tea, each of you would have stories to tell of your own fear, exhaustion, and heartache. We each have these stories. And guess what? The Lord knows these stories intimately. He cares about them. He cares about us.
What I have learned in each of these instances…. Is that even when we close our eyes…. God sees us. He sees us and knows us in our fear, in our exhaustion, and in our brokenness.
God also sees us in the happy and uplifting times. Those times we close our eyes because we are laughing so hard that our drink comes out our nose. Those times we close our eyes in worship. Those times that we are simply smiling as we remember past events that made our heart light up. Those times we close our eyes as we drink in the sweet scent of our new baby. Those times we are within the embrace of the love of our life.
Psalm 139 is my absolute favorite Psalm and it reminds us that we are known by God. “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely….”
Even when our eyes are closed. His are not.
We are known. We are loved. We are seen.