This is a quick one because I’m swallowed by rehearsals for Polka Dotted Platypus.
After church this past Sunday, I was walking across the parking lot and closed my eyes. Then I decided to see how far I could make it walking with my eyes closed. I wasn’t going to hit anything in the immediate vicinity.
So I walked about 10 steps, opened my eyes briefly (while still walking) to check on my progress and make sure no cars were coming, and closed my eyes again to walk another ten steps with my eyes closed. Another peek on progress, and again walking with closed eyed.
Amazing how solid the ground feels when you do that. And what a silly thought – of course the ground is solid. The ground is not going to turn to jello just because I closed my eyes. But there’s something strange about walking with your eyes closed for more than four steps that suddenly makes you think that.
And it suddenly hit me that this is an obvious metaphor for life – you’re literally walking in the dark, and only occasionally do you get a flash of the direction you’re going. You just get a tiny peek, and then it’s back to the darkness again. But the peek is supposed to be enough to tell you #1 – This is the way you’re going. #2 – This is the way you’re SUPPOSED to be going. #3 – You’re not going to hit anything. So just trust me enough to keep walking this way without seeing.
Seriously everyone, if you can find some parking lot or other wide open space where you can take ten steps with your eyes closed, it’s a pretty weird/interesting thing.
Oh, and I got a replacement cell phone so I'm back up and running! Yay!