Gulfstream Beach, FL ~ 1993
What do you want me to do for you? -Jesus of Nazareth
A month after Kate gently kissed his eyes James was still trying to figure out if he was in love (or “in like” as all the kids at school preferred to say). Even worse, he was more and more unsure if he was loveable.
He thought of Kate often, her fiery hair and fiery smile. He still could hardly believe she kissed him. In the weeks that had passed since then, he was doubly nervous around her, but their shifts didn’t overlap much anymore. James suspected Joe tweaked the schedule to keep them apart, but she left a bag of Skittles in his locker for him, and drew a smiley face, with a winking eye, on the package with a sharpie. He returned the favor with a pack of Starburst, hoping she’d like it, and just writing “Thanks” on the package.
She was seldom far from his mind, especially since everyone at school was maneuvering for dates to the upcoming prom. The dance before the dance, neither of which James had participated in before. Nobody at school knew about Kate, at least not since 5th grade, so it would create quite a stir if they walked in arm-in-arm to the big dance, especially at such a small school. He played multiple versions of the scene in his mind as he lay in bed one morning, listening to the mockingbird outside, waiting for the morning alarm to go off. “Do you need to be ‘in like’ to go to a dance together?” he asked the dim light. It was all new to him.
After his alarm, he got dressed and fed his fish. When he was in junior-high he bought a 29-gallon fish tank and populated it with fish and critters he found while snorkeling off the beach. He watched the brief feeding frenzy, and stared as they settled into chasing each other around and nipping at each other’s fins. His two small hermit crabs, which he caught last summer, waved their antennae, sometimes toward a passing fish, sometimes toward each other. No bigger than James’s fingernail, they were constantly picking up a piece of gravel and working it over, undoubtedly removing anything edible its tiny crevasses contained. James put his face near the glass.
“Hi, Hermy. Hey, Crabby. How’s it going?” He tapped gently on the glass. “Do you guys fall in love? Is there a fishtank prom?” They instantly and simultaneously retreated into their small shells, but just a moment later peered out with their beady eyes, and slowly re-emerged, waving their tiny antennae towards James, resuming their gravel cleaning operation. “I don’t even know if you’re guys or gals or whatever anyway.”
One of the crabs came across an empty shell and picked it clean of algae. “You gonna try that one on for size, Hermy? Or are you Crabby? Hard to tell.” Hermit crabs don’t grow their own shells like snails do. They scavenge the hard, empty shells of dead snails, and if they find a right fit, they upgrade. The half-second they take to switch shells is the most dangerous of their lives, as their tender, unprotected, alien bodies are exposed for an instant. Fish with good timing and a taste for crustacean learn to look for a crab sizing up a new shell. But the crabs have a lot of practice at this swift maneuver, since their bodies are constantly outgrowing their shells.
As James watched, the crab quickly switched shells and retreated into its new home. “What do you think? A better fit?” Before he was done asking the question, the crab switched back to the old one. It walked around in a circle, and came back to the new shell, and switched again. It waved its antennae at a lingering fish, which seemed to finalize the decision.
“Hard to make up your mind? Mom says change isn’t always easy.” He saw his reflection vaguely in the glass. “Maybe I need a new shell too. This one’s kinda ugly.” The crab seemed to look at him as it picked up another piece of gravel. “It must be nice to upgrade so easily.”
James reached under his bed and found the Bible he was given when he officially joined their church last year. His name was stamped in gold on the faux-leather cover, and as he pulled on the ribbon bookmark, it fell open to 1 Corinthians 13. The heading said “The Way of Love.”
“Well, maybe this will help,” James said. “Might as well get it from the source, I guess.” Both hermit crabs stopped and stared. He scanned the page.
Love is patient and kind… it is not arrogant or rude… Love never fails...
“Well, sometimes I’m patient, and I guess I’m kind. I don’t think I’m rude? I’ve never failed in school, but I guess I kinda failed in basketball.” James sighed and closed the Bible. “This isn’t helping much. How am I supposed to know what love is from this? The movies make it look so easy.” The crabs moved to the back of the fishtank, ignoring his questions and musings. “Maybe Edward would know.”
After shoveling in his daily dose of Frosted Flakes, he headed out the door to his car. But before he crossed the threshold, his good eye caught his reflection in the front hall mirror. Never prone to much vanity, he seldom stopped and looked at himself, but this time he paused and stared. As was his habit the last month, he looked out from his good eye into his good eye, and then looked from his good eye to his wandering blind eye. He pictured the tall man in the green shirt at the Kmart. “Is that really how I look? How the heck can she think that’s remotely ‘cute’?” he mumbled to himself.
His mom caught him staring. “Hey, Jimmy, I’ve been thinking…”
“Mom! I can’t be late!” James grinned at her. She looked at her watch.
“You’ve got 10 minutes, so relax, Mr. Smart Aleck. Anyway, your dad and I have been thinking…”
“A dangerous and difficult task.” He was on a roll.
“Enough Jimmy, please. I want to tell you something.” She stopped and stared at him.
“OK, sorry.”
“So we’ve been thinking. You know we love you exactly the way you are, but we wanted you to know, now that you’re getting older, if you want to see if we can look into surgery for your bad eye, we could see what we could find out to fix it.”
James stared at her, confused. “Wait, I thought they always said it will always be blind? Are you telling me I could see out of both eyes? Like everyone else?”
“Oh, no, sweetie. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I meant the wandering of your eye. They can’t make it see, unfortunately.”
“Oh.” James stared at his shoes. “That makes sense, I guess.”
“After your last checkup I asked the doctor, and he said they could do surgery to correct the misalignment. You wouldn’t see like everyone else, but your eyes could be aligned. Of course it’s up to you. Now that you’re older I thought maybe you’d want to think about it. The surgery sounds pretty straightforward, but the recovery would be tough. Dad checked and our insurance would even pay for it, so that would help.”
James head spun. Maybe Kate would like him even more if he didn’t look so weird. Maybe he wouldn’t look like the guy in the green shirt anymore. “Oh, wow. I never thought about that.”
“I know its a lot to think about, so take your time, and we can talk it over however much you want. No matter what, you know we love you exactly the way you are.”
“I know. Thanks, Mom. I think about it.” He stared at himself a moment more, then checked his watch. He yelled down the hall: “Becks! You taking the bus or riding with me or what?”
“I’m coming! And quit yelling at me. You’re not the boss.” Becky emerged from the bathroom in a fog of hairspray, her bangs impressively fluffy. She reached down and perfected the tight rolls of her jeans.
“I wasn’t yelling, so chill out. Let’s go. Bye Mom.”
School went by in a blur, as James could only think of his mom’s proposal. He hated doctors and the idea of surgery, but what if this could really work?
After school he drove to the Huxley Center for the Blind for his weekly hour of reading to Edward. After greeting Clara at the front desk, he made his way to the small library.
“Come in, James. Is that you?” Edward invited him in as he approached.
“Hello, Edward.”
“You sound a little down today. Everything copacetic?”
“Huh?”
“Copacetic: in excellent order; completely satisfactory. Or: are you doing OK?”
“Oh. I guess. A lot going on lately,” James said.
“Oh? Care to share?”
“I guess, but I thought I was supposed to come read,” James said.
“True enough, although I think the main idea is you spending time with us poor blind folks, whatever that may look like. I enjoy your company and hearing your voice, in any case. But you can read if reading is what you prefer. How about one of my favorite texts this time?”
“What’s that?”
“The Gospel According to Mark, Chapter 10, verses 46 through 52.” Edward smiled broadly.
“I thought you have a Braille Bible, and a Bible on tape too?”
“I do, but they’re a bit unwieldy, wouldn’t you agree? Plus it is always good to hear a well-known passage in another voice. A different perspective,” Edward said. “I believe you’ll find a regular Bible on the shelf to your right.”
James found the Bible, made his way to the passage and read:
Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus, was sitting by the roadside begging.
James paused and looked up at Edward. “Seriously?” he said.
“Quite. Keep reading, please.”
When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him. The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”
James’s voice faltered, and suddenly he was lost in thought.
“Don’t stop there, my friend. You’re just getting to the good part,” Edward said.
James continued: “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.
Edward bowed his head and quietly uttered: “The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God. Amen.” Then he lifted his head and voice: “A wonderful little story, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” James said. He looked closely at Edward, who seemed to be expecting a question, so James asked: “Do you think God could heal you?”
“Could he heal me? I don’t think it is a question of could. If he made the heavens and the earth by simply speaking (and he did), I’m quite confident he could do whatever he pleases.”
“Then why doesn’t he?” James asked.
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. But I’ll put the question back to you, if I may. Why do you think God hasn’t healed me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want to?” James said.
“Perhaps so, but why would an all-knowing, all-seeing, all-loving, all-powerful God not want to heal one of his poor, pathetic, suffering, beloved children?” Edward asked.
“Do you mean why would he not want to heal you?”
“Precisely.”
“Uh, maybe because he’s mean? All sorts of gods are super mean to people.”
“Certainly a possibility in theory, but not for the one true living God. He’s proven his love over and over, not least by coming in the flesh and demonstrating his love, one example of which you just read for us. That’s a true story you just read, as ancient as it is. So the question still remains: why would God not heal my blindness?”
James looked down at the passage. Your faith has healed you. He looked up at Edward. “Because… because you don’t have faith?”
“Oh ho! Now we’re getting personal. We’ve moved from preaching to meddling, as they say. Are you suggesting my faith is deficient?” Edward’s voice rose a little, but his smile remained. “Perhaps if I could muster enough faith all would be well? Is that what you’re saying? Do I need more faith?”
“Uh, no, I guess not,” James stammered.
“Well, if you are suggesting I need more faith, you would be correct. Turn the page and read verse 24 of chapter 9, please.”
James found the spot and read: Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I believe; help my unbelief!”
“Ah, we could all use more faith, wouldn’t you agree? But I’m sorry, I’ve lost track of our original question, what was it?” Edward said.
“Why won’t God heal you?”
“Ah yes, the classic question through the ages. If God is good, why won’t he right all the wrongs in the world, especially the wrongs in my little world? Yes?”
“Yeah. Good question.” James thought of his blind, wandering eye, even as he pitied the completely blind man in front of him.
“Indeed,” Edward said. “But don’t despair if you haven’t found the answer yet. It can take a while.”
“Have you found it?” James asked.
“I believe so, at least a beginning. I’ve found it’s less of an ‘it’ than a ‘him.’ That’s a start at least.”
“Huh? I don’t understand.” James shifted nervously in his seat.
“That’s fine, for now at least,” Edward said. “But here we are rambling theologically, and you’ve clearly come in downcast. What kind of friend am I? What’s on your mind, James?”
“Oh, well, see...” James didn’t know where to begin. Then he blurted out: “There’s this girl.” He expected the knowing smile and condescension he had witnessed most adults bringing to such conversation starters, but Edward didn’t miss a beat.
“Ah, yes. A friend of yours?”
“Yes, her name is Kate.” James launched into a retelling of the story of Kate, the man in the green shirt, her kissing his eyes, their exchanging of candy, his ponderings about the prom, and eventually got to his mom’s unexpected proposal for eye surgery that morning. He was surprised, and a little proud of himself, that he didn’t leave anything out.
James concluded: “So I’m not sure if Kate really could like me, looking like this. So maybe I should do this surgery? What do you think?” He paused to look up at Edward, and a question suddenly came to him.
James said, “Maybe God could heal me, or at least this stupid wandering eye, with the surgery? Now that Jesus isn’t around any more, isn’t that how God heals now?”
“That’s certainly one way, yes, but not the only way, as I think you may find out.” Edward rose to his feet.
James took the hint and stood up too, checking his watch. “What do you mean?”
“Just a hunch, my young friend. Perhaps you’ll see.”