Our Eyes Know
by Pauli Hubbard
It was one of those days of nothing planned, before all of life came to a screeching halt. Wandering from one gallery to another Angie chanced to open the door to a tiny gallery off an alley. The artist approached her with a greeting and explained that this was his private photo exhibit and she was welcome to browse. Wandering through the rooms she did a double-take on a photo of an old crone-like woman carrying a kitty on her shoulder as she leaned against an old stone wall. Angie quickly found a chair and sat still and attentive before the picture.
The women’s face was etched with a life-time of experiences. Each line seemed to tell a story...what was her story, she wondered. Some of the crevices were deep, others not so, yet as Angie’s eyes reached and met the eyes of this ancient woman she exhaled and smiled...ah, there were wonderful joy crinkles around her eyes and those eyes...like a wondrous well of peace.
How could this be? Surely her face seemed to tell a different story. What secret did she hold? What could she learn from this old women which would transform her life into one of peace rather than the chaos she carried around as her constant companion?
At home that night she looked longingly in the mirror. How could she find joy in her life? Sighing, she sat in her evening chair and picked up her daily reading. The passage that evening seemed to jump from the page:
In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith—being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.
1 Peter 1.6-9
She sat back in her chair, the passage seemed to speak to her of purpose, comfort, and promised joy. Had the photographer unknowingly captured this same joy in the old woman?
Was that the secret of living with and in the joys and tragedies of life? Perhaps it was time to change her way of thinking and living.
