I read a quote today on Ann Voskamp's blog, a place I frequent and always find myself enriched by.
"Love is not blind; that is the last thing that it is. Love is bound; and the more it is bound the less it is blind."
Oh how blind I have been in my love of late.
As though I were five again, awakened to find my eyes caked with pink eye puss so thick that I am blinded. As though I am there again, on the edge of the porcelain tub while my mom wets a wash cloth with warm water and tells me to set it atop my eyes.
Only now Papa sits, gently washing away the grit that has blinded me these past few weeks. It has built up slowly so I barely noticed the caking and the gradual loss of vision. But then I awoke with a start to find I could no longer see.
What had happened?
When had the world and the enemy with his lies crept in? Oh, but he was sneaky and the lies he told me sounded so much like the truth I wanted to believe.
