I am sitting at the desk in front of my computer, window shade drawn down to six inches below eye level. (That’s eye level as I’m sitting, not standing.) With the lamp glaring from the left side and early morning darkness still holding in the shadows, I can barely see the porch floor as I look out through the window to the right of the monitor screen. There is only a hint of green as I shift my focus to the east yard.
When I turn out the light and lean forward, lay my face nearer the top of the desk and look out, the view completely changes.
I can see the branches of the maples sweeping back and forth in the morning breeze. Darker strips and splotches of green ripple across the sheen of all three levels of the yard
as it rolls and folds toward the line of trees at the base of the hill. Through their tall branches, I can see the lowest bank of gray clouds against the low ridge two miles away. Above them, a soft pinkish orange blushes the sky, a promise of dawning that brightens the sky beyond the shroud of gray. That light frames the silhouettes of trunks and branches in the fencerow.
It is not always a better view but it is always a different perspective when we shut out what is close and lean in a bit so that we can see beyond the immediate and focus on the broader frame of the world. When we are blinded by the glare of what is near at hand and deliberately look beyond, we are better able to see what the hand of God has prepared for us.
It does not matter how glorious a day he has made if we choose only the shrouded shade of dim vision. We might be rather astonished at how much our view of things might change if we just raise the shade a bit from time to time.