Make him see

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This evening I sat in the lounge of a friend of mine's parents. His father is old. He has white hair and he sits quietly in his chair and smiles and laughs, but for reasons beyond me I landed up sharing my entire life story with him, especially my concerns about my father. And I realised then that that was the reason I had gone there, for some peace, for some resolution, for help. The room went peacefully quiet after I had spoken. It was as though they understood why I had come. And they were willing to give me advice.

There was only a dim light shining, and then he spoke, with such grace, and he said, "There is a scripture that says, happy is he who has the Son. For if you have the Son, you have life." Yes! How I wished my father would know and understand this wisdom. It wasn't just a belief by a young woman looking for meaning and purpose, it was believed even by this wise and graceful old man. He exuded no bitterness, no anger, just peace and freedom. He was constantly smiling.

But just when I was begging the question, "But how can I make him see?", Peter's sister arrived. And I couldn't ask him. But I already know the answer: pray. Pray for him. I had told them everything: the shooting, the brain tumors, the thrombosis, the loss of smell and balance and now the loss of sight. And as I said the latter, I realised of course that I was sitting with the parents of my blind friend Peter and his blind friend Henk. It is not "not having" but "losing" that hurts the most.

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