The technical definition of “degeneration” as it relates to my eye condition is: “the stage or process of becoming degenerate; decline or deterioration” (thanks Google!) Unsurprisingly, I prefer a more lyrical, poetic definition: what is easy now will become hard, and what is hard now will become harder.
I suppose my eyes have always been on that constant path of deterioration, but I didn’t notice any major changes in sight until the end of my junior year of high school.
The crisp clarity in vision I once had was replaced by a soft cloudiness, like a frosted window. Black letters on a white computer screen suddenly appeared gray, and I’d rather not admit how many times I mixed up a ‘B,’ a ‘P,’ and an ‘E’ while taking vision exams.
Before, contact lenses were corrective enough. But since the marked decline of my sight during the latter half of high school, I have required reading glasses as well, on top of the lenses in my eyes.
I often wonder why God created me with limited sight. It’s a genuine query, not a self-pitying one (although I do slip into that sometimes). I wonder what purpose my eyes will serve, and how God will use them. I believe God has a myriad of reasons for my eyes being so complicated, some of which are beginning to reveal themselves, while others remain a mystery.
One such reason that has become increasingly clear is for me to learn to not take anything for granted. It’s borderline trite, but it’s all true. My eyesight is gradually getting worse, and I know that. What I do not know is how bad it will get, and that’s why I have to be grateful for the sight I have now.
Something will always be out of place
Perhaps the reason why “don’t take anything for granted” is said so often is because it’s really, really difficult to do. I think not taking anything for granted can also mean living in the moment. I am a pretty impatient person, so I constantly think about the future and not what could happen next, but what should happen next.
I have said before that I can’t wait until the point in my life where everything has fallen into place. One morning about a month ago, I was thinking this very thing as I was putting my contacts in my eyes. And then, all I thought was: “something will always be out of place.”
I don’t know what put that thought into my mind, but I do know that the words were both comforting and disappointing. But if my vision is progressively deteriorating, and the metaphorical dust will never quite settle, I feel as though my only choice is to not take anything for granted and to live in, and for, the present moment.
Therefore, I’ve since discovered another lyrical definition of degeneration as it relates to my eyes: rejoicing for the vision I have today, even if it’s worse than yesterday, because I don’t know where it will be tomorrow.