"You Can See the Leaves?"

When I was in second grade, we moved just a few blocks away - but it put us in a different school district. The school year had already started, and I was loving my class and teacher, so I felt nervous about beginning somewhere new.

My new teacher was Mrs. Yoder. The classroom seemed twice as big as my old one, and the only empty desk sat way in the back corner. I was completely hooked on the Trixie Belden mystery series, and thankfully this school library had them too, which helped ease some of my anxiety.

The class I'd just left was a bit ahead of where this class was in the curriculum, and Mrs. Yoder said she didn't mind if I read my book when they were going over something I'd already learned. But when she'd occasionally call on me to ask me to read something from the board - I couldn't. I simply couldn't see any writing on the board and would ask if I could go up to the front of the class to read it.

Mrs. Yoder was a seasoned teacher. She quickly sent a note home explaining her suspicions to my parents and suggesting I get my eyes examined. This caught my parents completely off guard, but they scheduled an appointment with an optometrist.

It turned out that I was very nearsighted with a fairly severe astigmatism. It was fun to pick out frames, and my dad smiled as he said to choose what I liked. I tried on a few, but as soon as I saw these octagonal honeycomb colored plastic frames, my choice was clear.

When we got the call that my glasses were in, my dad drove me to pick them up. The doctor's office was in a lower level ranch style building, with no windows. When we walked outside together and climbed those stairs - I'll never forget that instant.

It was bright and sunny, and the shock hit me like a wave. I kept gasping, "Oh! Oh my goodness! I had no idea you could see every single leaf on the trees!" Dad's eyes filled with tears. He knelt right there on the ground, pulled me close, and his voice broke as he said, "I'm so sorry, Lisa Jayne. We had no idea your eyes were this bad. Will you forgive us?"

It didn't feel like my parents had done anything wrong, and I immediately nodded - of course - and gave him an extra hug.

To me the whole drive home was magical. He was smiling, but also looking a little sad, as I exclaimed over everything I could see. I couldn't stop myself from gasping, "You can read signs on buildings? Look at how clearly you can see all the cars on the road - you can even see the houses as we drive by!"

Me and the magical honeycomb glasses

I've returned to that memory countless times. It's fascinating how we don't realize what we're missing until everything suddenly snaps into focus. Before those glasses, I never questioned whether other people saw trees the same way I did. I just assumed everyone's world looked exactly like mine.

That's how truth works in our lives, isn't it? We cruise along with our current understanding until something shifts our view - maybe a conversation that challenges us, a book that opens new ideas, or an experience that changes everything. When truth connects with beauty and goodness, it doesn't just change our minds - it changes our hearts too.

I'm curious - have you had moments like this? Times when something you thought you completely understood suddenly appeared in an entirely different light? These flashes of clarity invite us to stay curious, to remain open to other ways of seeing.

An important part of embracing truth is getting comfortable with questions, with not having everything figured out. Truth isn't about having all the answers - it's about being willing to keep looking through different lenses.