It was a beautiful, sunny Florida day when she received the life-changing diagnosis that she was dreading.
And she knew exactly what it meant.
She had witnessed the slow, isolating journey as her mother, her only brother and her uncle became legally blind.
Now, with the same condition, she knew all too well what lay ahead: no driving, no bird watching, no walking on the beach alone at sunrise.
And the precious activity that was unthinkable to let go of - no reading her books.
My mother was a voracious reader - devouring a book every day or two - almost all of them on the subject of spirituality.
Soaking up wisdom through soul-nourishing words was her life’s joy.
So when she noticed the changes in her central vision, her worst nightmare of wet macular degeneration was confirmed by her doctor.
He didn’t have to tell her how things would go. She knew.
Distraught, she returned home and got on her bike to clear her head and heart.
She rode through the quiet neighborhood toward the river, tears streaming down her face.
I won’t be able to read.
Then, in a vivid moment, which more than fourteen years later remains tattooed on her heart, she gripped the handle bars and with all of the passion and devotion her soul could offer, she said out loud:
Okay, God. If you want my eyes, they’re yours. I give them to you. Take my eyes.
She cracked open her heart and offered up one of her most prized possessions.
Take my eyes.
It was a holy moment.
When we surrender our greatest challenges with radical trust and Divine faith, we transform the story, we align with grace, we make space for a higher plan where all things are possible.
It doesn’t give us a pass on participation - we are required to do the next right thing - and the next.
But now, instead of muscling through alone, we are shown. We are guided. We are in the flow.
And that’s what happened with Mom.
There was no reversing or treating wet macular degeneration back then, but there were some off-brand uses of cancer drugs as eye injections. It was thought that repeated monthly injections would inhibit the bleeding behind the eye. As frightening as that sounded, she agreed to receive the treatment.
But after only a few months, her doctor reported a strange finding at her next appointment.
Not only was there no progression of the disease, but damage to her eyes seemed to be repaired.
The usually super-confident doc stood at the door on his way out of the exam room shaking his head.
“I think we just saw a miracle.”
Yes, doctor, I think you did.
She got home, wrote a note and taped it to her desk.
My eyes are healed.
The little sign stayed there for a decade - a testament of faith.
This is a faith we can all exercise when faced with impossible things, unbearable pain, unfixable situations.
When we surrender and soften—the very actions we associate with weakness—we find deeper stores of strength and energy.
The moment we let go and open to something greater than ourselves, we tap into the source of infinite peace, possibility and miracles.
We need not carry our burdens alone for another day.
Stop now and rest for a moment.
Surrender your mind, surrender your fears, surrender your illness and surrender your darkness.
Don’t surrender once, or twice, but over and over again.
Any time you feel yourself sinking under the weight of the world, let go and let God.
It is through surrender that comfort appears and answers are made visible.
We are no longer alone, but lifted by a force of Love far more powerful than our pain.
We usually discover this when we are completely beaten down, desperate, knees on the cold, hard tile.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
The river of grace is always right here beside us waiting for us to step in.
Today, tear down the veil of separation. Set down your armor. Give up your will to go it alone.
Make an offering of your situation.
Allow limited thinking to be replaced by infinite possibilities.
It’s a new day and you are not alone.