The Peak of Inspiration

The eyes tell us what’s inside.  What’s behind the eyes will show through them.  There is no hiding behind those windows, for that is what they are.  Windows that can’t be shuttered or tinted, although a lot of people try.  Look someone in the eyes, and you will rarely, if ever, misunderstand their intent. 

I looked into the eyes of a dog.  I saw an unbiased companion.  Not caring if I was four or forty, or if I was happy or sad.  Ready and waiting to spend some time together.  Beautiful eyes, but not deep.  Social eyes.  Lets-not-think-about-tomorrow eyes. 

I looked into the eyes of a machine.  I saw a willingness to help get the job done.  I saw capability and strength.  But there was a cold depth to it’s stare.  Not caring if you showed up to work or not.  Not caring if you tired, or if you got in the way and became a victim, a casualty.  Indifferent to sacrifice, be it yours or its own. 

I looked into the eyes of a friend.  I saw a measure of love.  Their eyes said “lets get together when we have some time”.  I saw their eyes look at me with concern when I had trouble.  I saw some of them cry real tears at times when I hurt.  I saw many great qualities in those eyes.  But I also found the borders of their gaze.  I found places that they couldn’t find me. 

I looked into the eyes of a mentor, a teacher.  I saw responsibility.  A desire to help me find a purchase on the next step of the ladder.  A commitment to the job of making me successful.  I found eyes that were ok with watching me suffer today so that I wouldn’t suffer tomorrow.  But those eyes stayed focused in that classroom.  They now look on the one who took my place.

I looked into the eyes of a lover.  Full of so many good things.  Love, passion, and care.  Commitment and resolve.  Beauty.  I’m-so-glad-we-found-each-other eyes.  What-would-I-do-without-you eyes.  Eyes that also show frustration, despair, and sometimes, anger.  Eyes that see things that I can’t.  But when I look closely into those eyes, I can see a reflection of what is being seen.  And I see through the eyes of another…

I looked into the eyes of a mother.  I saw worry and care.  Concern and compassion.  All buried in a pool of love.  I saw her eyes look into the lunchbox before it was carried out the door, and add that item that takes a packed lunch from good to great.  Those eyes did not rest on the quality or usefulness of her childs art project, but fastened their gaze on the love that it took to make it.  Her look took in the superficial wounds, but had the capacity and depth to see past the obvious to the hidden.  The things that affect the heart.  I saw the emotions of her children reflect off her soul and pour out her eyes.

And then I looked into the eyes of a father.  My father.  I saw the same impartiality in his eyes as in the dogs.  Loving me in every condition.  I stood under the gaze of his “machine” mode, committed to helping me get the job done.  Ok with sacrifice, as long as it was his own. I know he looked at me as a friend would, caring but not always knowing how to show it.  His eyes often viewed me as a student, always interested in my eventual success.  I could catch a glimpse of the things he had seen, things he wished to spare me from.  I saw the way he saw my mother.  A pattern for all lovers everywhere. 

I saw much more.  I’m still interpreting some of the qualities I found in his eyes.  Some of them take their time revealing their identities.  There was one thing that I found that I was blind to for many years.  Pride.  The good kind.  This kind did not lift him up.  

We happened to be visiting in Kansas one Sunday.  After the benediction we were conversing in our customary manner.  There were a few men standing between dad and I.  One of them was not acquainted with me and he asked dad who this “young man” was.  Dad straightened a little, his voice got a little stronger and he said.  “That’s my son. And I’m proud of him”.

Then I looked into my eyes.  They were full of tears…