yesterday, i spent two hours in small, darkened rooms where gilt-framed impressionist prints did not make me feel any less a patient.
chin nestled on strap, forehead bumped up against another, i peered into a parade of machines.
beams of light were danced across my eyes and reflected back in terminator like redness. spinning swirls of black and white alice-in-wonderland stripes took me nowhere but enticed my eyes to give up dizzy secrets. maps of their terrain and measurements of my seeing were written and checked once more for the upholding of accuracy.
and the final test. dilation.
my pupils dilate constantly—-by themselves, on their own.
this was a taking over. a stretching of perceived limits. an outside of comfort’s zone. a door held open so wide, inside me was in full view.
it exposed a part of my eyes that the doctor wanted to observe. it kept me from my natural shrinking away at the exposing light. it tested me.
tested my readiness for a trial. to see if the genuine in me was prepared to hold up to being cut open, to being rebuilt, to handle what is sometimes hurt into healing.
though i knew to expect it, the side effects i carried home with me were…
thieves of my self-reliance.
i chose this test. but there have been times i did not choose testing and trials that would one day lead to sharing miracles.
“in this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of jesus christ;.”
I peter 1:6,7(NASB)