"One or Two? Two or Three?"

I hate the optometrist. Not the actual person — she’s lovely — but the whole process. I don’t like the smells or the idea that for 45 minutes someone is going to shoot lasers and drop chemicals in my eyes (If she could make lasers came out of my eyes, then we may be on to something).

The part I hate the most is when they drop the lenses in front of me and ask me which one I prefer, “#1 or #2’. This process doesn’t make sense to me for three reasons: #1 you’ve just put 4 chemicals and 3 lasers into my eyes, so they’re not exactly in peak performance and #2, one of those lasers measures my needs exactly. The machines tell you which one is better, one or two.

This takes me to #3: I feel stupid. I can’t tell which is better and with each succeeding question, I am less and less confident in my ability to articulate what I need or what’s best for me.

My ability to name what I need or decide what’s best for my family cannot be separated from the animated discussion I had with my bride or the client meeting that went sideways that day. The mental, emotional, spiritual noise in my life clouds my clarity. As I get older, I get more comfortable in navigating a cloudy world. My goal now is not perfect vision, but clarity, which requires refinement. I must work at discernment, seeking counsel (and calibration) from others that are looking at the same goals.