Windows, waterfalls, and a beautiful view

 My first thought was an unannounced partial eclipse of the sun, so quickly had the shadow entered the room. I turned to find it wasn’t an eclipse but a man outside my window, pressing up against it.

   I would have screamed had I not then remembered that it was window-cleaning day at the retirement community. It surprises me twice a year, even when it’s announced a week ahead of time. This is partly because we live on the fifth floor, with no balcony. The sudden appearance of the cleaner always catches me unaware.

Actually, I’m grateful that this establishment provides bi-annual window cleaning. One of the reasons we moved into this apartment was the north-facing wall of windows in both rooms. It makes the small area feel spacious and open. We never tire of the view. After the cleaning, the far hills seem especially clear and lovely.

A clear view is so important to personal well-being. When choosing and moving into a new place, my first questions were always, “What will we see looking out the windows? How much light gets in?”

Another type of window cleaning common to people of retirement age is cataract removal/lens replacement surgery. I’m still amazed at the thought of an operation on the eye and that it’s become so quick and routine. “Don’t worry,” my doctor told me. “I do dozens of these each day.”

“Dozens a day” makes it seem like minor surgery, and so it is. But for the person undergoing the procedure, me for example, it’s huge and life-changing. Hal and I had the surgery several years ago. I was thrilled with how sharp and clear my vision was afterward, much better than a window cleaning. I could actually read road signs. The greens were greener, the reds redder.

The name cataract interests me. It has two meanings in English: 1) a clouding of the lens of the eye and 2) a waterfall. The latter is an older usage. But in Spanish the word catarata is the common word for waterfall.

Just before my surgery I wrote the following poem:

I’m having my waterfalls
removed. It will be good
when all the mist
that floats between me
and the sun is gone.
Even so, I’m going to miss
the rush and swirl of moving
water, the mad leap over the edge,
the plunge and crash and all
the lovely daily drama that goes
with having my very own
waterfalls somewhere
inside my head.

Clarity of vision is indeed important to human flourishing. I find my soul frequently needs a window cleaning. Cataracts of fear and discouragement need the surgery of the Spirit so that I can again see the beautiful reality of life in God’s kingdom. The Apostle Paul prayed for the new believers in Ephesus that the “eyes of their hearts” would be opened so that they would clearly see all that God had provided for them.

Clear vision.

Eyes that see truth and beauty—in myself, in other people, in God’s world.

A requirement at any age.