Last week, I asked you readers which of your five senses you would choose if you could pick only one to keep for the rest of your life. Here are your answers.
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I put drops in my eyes twice a day to stave off glaucoma and the blindness it would bring. I love the smell of fresh cut grass, the taste of garlic (or chocolate!), the feel of my grandchildren's arms around my neck and the sound of classical music, but I think it is the ability to see the page of a book or sunlight on the lake or the colors of my knitting pattern that I would miss the most.
LeAnne, northwestern Wisconsin
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I would want my sight. Although the others would be devastating to lose, I have memories with smells, sounds, etc… that I can fall back on… reminisce what those great things brought me. But, sight is, to me, the most frightening to lose, especially with the advancement of technology where you need to do EVERYTHING online, plus, not the ability to see could compromise safety. Moreover, there’s so much more of the world I want to see.
Martha, Minneapolis, Minnesota
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I would never want to be without my sense of sight, because it is so important to me. I’m an interior designer by my degree, but work as a graphic designer. Everything I do for fun or for business relies on my sight. And then I think of all the things I’d miss out on: the perfect North Dakota sunsets, a bumblebee among lilac blooms, the way an eagle glides over water. No, I can’t lose sight.
Maybe touch? Never to feel a soft velvet or taffeta fabric, the fur on my kitty’s chin, or a really smooth piece of wood that’s been sanded so all imperfections are gone? I should probably keep that one…
Sound doesn’t seem like something to forego, I need to hear sirens and signals, I like to hear a meadowlark and my husband’s voice as he sings to me. Or podcasts, how will I solve crimes if I don’t listen to my murder podcasts? Or to never sing a hymn in church? Can’t lose my hearing.
Taste is out of the question. Popcorn, knoephla soup, coffee, etc.
I was without my sense of smell for a few Covid-days. That was weird, and I did NOT like it. To not smell a freshly mowed lawn, bread from the oven, or even just fresh cedar mulch chips on the church landscaping was so hard.
It doesn’t seem like I’m too interested in giving any one of them up, and I thank my Heavenly Father that I still have all mine. Each is a priceless gift.
Jen, Grand Forks, North Dakota
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The Greek Oedipus could not see who he really was—the victim in a cruel prophecy.
When the blind seer Teiresias directed Oedipus’ sighted eyes to the truth, he denied it.
Only after Oedipus gouged out his own eyes did he see clearly.
Why can’t I see what Your plan is for me in this world?
Is it a problem of visual clarity, of focus?
When abandoned and sent away by Abraham into the wilderness, Hagar called on the name of the Lord, saying “You are a God of seeing” and “Truly I have seen him who looks after me” (Genesis 16:13). God saw her, and she saw Him.
“Holy, holy, holy! Though the darkness hide Thee; though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may
not see.”
Lord, I cannot see You, but I know You see me.
We sing “Open our eyes, Lord. We want to see Jesus” and “Once I was blind, but now I can see. The Light of the world is Jesus.”
But I really can’t see. I need You to show me how to see with Your eyes in this world.
And one fine day, these eyes will see Him.
Until then, I need a new prescription.
Avis, Newfolden, Minnesota.
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*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.