Walking in Tandem

It was just another Saturday. Don and I were rushing about running errands with little notice of the folks around us. We were on a mission--buzzing here and speeding there, checking our list and checking things off. Our last stop was the Mall of Georgia. When we pulled into the mall parking lot, our minds were set on getting in and getting out, buying this and returning that.

Don grabbed the first available space (as usual) while I insisted there might be a closer one. After straightening the car, Don shut off the engine and came around to the passenger side. He opened the door and waited as I went through my ritual of applying lipstick, putting on sunglasses, and tossing my handbag on my shoulder. I stepped out of the car and took Don’s arm.

We had no idea a young woman was watching us all the while.

Often times I carry my white cane with me when we shop but not this day. I simply took Don’s arm and held onto him for dear life. Otherwise, I might trip and fall over an unseen curb or some other obstruction. So, arm in arm, list in hand, off we went.

Trusting Don to be “eyes” for the both of us, I walked a half-step behind him, my hand curled around his arm, and we trekked seamlessly together toward the mall entrance. As we walked the length of the parking lot, I explained the finer points of getting a great parking place at a mall. Though I hadn’t driven in years, I was an expert passenger with experienced shopping buddies so I knew the ropes.

“Ya’know, Don, if I’d come here with a girlfriend, we would have gotten a better parking space. We would have circled around a few times hoping and shooting up arrow prayers, asking God to provide a premiere space. After all, wouldn’t God want to protect us from the humility of humidity and the humbling humiliation of a bad hair day?” (Definitely a first world, only-in-the-south concern.)

Walking in tandem required quick words of instruction. As we crossed the distance. Don interjected:

“Step right a little, there’s a metal grate ahead; your heel might get caught in it.”

“Come this way and watch out for the trailer hitch on the truck to your left.”

“Take my hand and move closer; we’re walking between two concrete barriers.”

His words mattered. They kept me safe, close, protected.

I listened to and followed Don’s guidance. I knew he saw things I didn’t and knew things I couldn’t. I stopped when he said stop and walked where he walked. I adjusted my hand on Don’s arm as we went. I was constantly reaching out for him, touching his arm, holding his hand, and reaching to be sure he was there.

And, he never left my side.

We had no idea we were being watched. We stepped onto the curb and moved across the brick pavers. We walked past the fountains and wove our way through the crowd to the sound of children squealing with delight as they played in the water spray.

When we got to the entrance nearest the food court, a young woman approached us and said, “You are such a cute couple. I couldn’t help noticing how close you are.”

She turned to me and said, “I can see how much he loves you and you are so attentive to him. You were touching his arm, holding his hand, or walking arm in arm with him the whole time. Wow! I hope I’m that close to someone someday.”

I smiled a knowing smile and replied with something forgettable.

The woman threw her drink cup into the trashcan and turned to leave. She had looked right past my blindness and seen only relationship, closeness, love.

I held onto Don’s arm more tightly. Had blindness served to forge a closeness we might otherwise have lacked? Did the woman see something we ourselves hadn’t seen? Could it be that for a moment in that particular moment we were allowed to mirror a higher, loftier love? A love born not of human decision but of God? He so loved that He gave, became, suffered, and died all for the sake of relationship, closeness, love.

Had she really seen in us a picture of Jesus and His love for us, all of us, each of us?

Motivated by love, His words matter. They keep us safe, protected, close. He sees things we can’t and knows things we don’t.

Jesus is the lover of our souls and a trusted guide for spiritually blind eyes. He is Jesus, with “eyes enough” for all of us - for now and all eternity.

Will you take His arm, walk hand in unseen hand, and follow Him wherever He goes?