Whispers of Mystery

Whispers of Mystery
Unknown source. Please e-mail me if you know the artist.

Sunday, January 26, 2020

Clean Vision

Jasmine's Home, September 16, 2011
            Jasmine has just cleaned her glasses for the 11th time today.  What would she do if she didn’t have glasses?  She needs something mindless for her hands to do that also makes her feel better, that feels rewarding and carries the resemblance of an accomplishment.  Of course, there’s no accomplishment in the 11th cleaning once 10 have already been accomplished the same day, but it’s the resemblance of the accomplishment that matters.  She thinks maybe she should clean the kitchen counter, but that would mean going through all the stuff piled all over it, and that’s real work, not mindless.  She’d clean the dishes, but she’d first have to put the other ones away, and she’d have to scrub the pasta out of that pan.  Besides, she doesn’t have any time  for “real” cleaning; she just needs to distract herself for a moment, and then go back to planning tomorrow’s lesson for her fifth graders.  No, Jasmine needs something simple.  So she keeps the eyeglasses cleanser industry in business and is always sure to have clean glasses.  Does it give her clean vision too?  She’d like to think so.
            At least she doesn’t smoke.  Jasmine marvels at how much smokers spend, and they don’t even get the resemblance of an accomplishment.  Unless slowly turning their lungs black counts.  Jasmine recalls those Truth videos she saw in Health class in high school that scared her pants off.  But they worked.  Had she not seen them, maybe she would have become a smoker.  Of course, cleaning her glasses calms her only when she’s cleaning them, while smokers say they’re calmed not only while they’re smoking but also for a while afterward.  The nicotine enters their system and physically calms their nerves.   Getting that kind of stress release sounds enticing.  Jasmine gets why they do it.  Holding her glasses in her hand she tells them, “But I don’t want my lungs to go black, so you are going to get really clean.”
            She’s trying anything she can to quit overthinking her first ever USTA Tournament – both her loss and her unexpected win. Jasmine may have played in high school tournaments, but a US Tennis Association tournament is quite another experience.  She was feeling the pressure of an actual USTA Tournament, the pressure to please her Mixed Doubles partner Davie, the pressure from the crowd, and even the pressure of a crowd rooting for her opponents.  It’s hard enough to hear the crowd cheering for their opponents’ winning shots or to hear silence when they make powerful, strategic plays, but this crowd was even doing something tennis crowds don’t do: they were clapping at opponents’ “wins” that came from her unforced errors.  Maybe they didn’t know that, for her, those errors were unforced?  Maybe they thought the opponents had great shots that she should not have been able to return?  Jasmine couldn’t shake wondering whether they were just being rude, or whether they were insulting her by their ignorance that her misses were unforced – shots she would normally get.  And, the more she was bothered, the more unforced errors she made.  She wasn’t upset with her opponents; they were good sports.  Nor was she even really upset with herself; she could forgive errors coming from the pressure of a first USTA Tournament.  She was upset with the crowd.  This was her first tournament.  Couldn’t they wake up, learn that, and give her a break?!  Between court swaps after each odd game, Jasmine impulsively cleaned her glasses.  This time, her obsession gave her a chance to coach herself: Get clean vision, Jazzie.  Don’t look at them.  Don’t listen to them.  Just watch the ball and have clean vision and clean shots.
            To Jasmine’s wonder, Davie responded exactly the opposite as the crowd.  Any time she made an unforced error, he approached her with encouragement, assuring her of “No worries” and a pat on her shoulder to say, “Good going.”  He even started giving her a High 5 when she lost a point, which he could see troubled her.  “You’re doing great.  This is your first tournament.  Go easy on yourself.  You’re doing good.”  No matter whether they won a point or lost one, Davie was flirting with her the entire time.   When they won one, he made sure to give her a High 5, and their High 5s kept lingering longer and longer.  Toward the end of their match, every High 5 ended with a squeeze of the hand, and those began to linger longer too.  Jasmine may have lost the match for them; she may have lost the crowd who were clearly against them; but she won Davie’s attention.  She came away from her first USTA tournament with an ironic thrill for her loss.

            By the time of their first mixed doubles tournament, three months have passed since Davie caught her eye.  At first, it was his physique that caught her attention, then it was this mysterious deja vu that she somehow knew him.  It turns out she did.  As the youth pastor at her church, he’d spoken a few times at their church, and she was always mesmerized and inspired by his messages.  Still, as inspiring as they always are, his messages are still a little safe.  He doesn’t push the envelop too far on what traditional churches seem to want their parishioners to believe.
So Jasmine really perked up at Davie’s refreshing reply to Gentry’s question at the Alley about whether it’s okay to assassinate a terrorist, as Obama had just announced he had done of Osama bin Laden.  While Davie didn’t have an easy answer to this question, he did have a clear stand against capital punishment.  Jasmine found it a relief to find a pastor take what she perceived as the “pro-life” stand against the death penalty, as she couldn’t wrap her head around the typical support for it among those who attended churches like hers.  Jasmine returned home that day wondering if Davie, like her, was a closet progressive.
“Closet progressive” was Jasmine’s phrase for herself with her journal.  As a “closet” progressive, she protected herself with her journal and her silence.  Throughout her teen and college years, her family taunted her for thinking at odds.  To escape the taunting, she buried herself in her journal and posed her questions straight to the Spirit: Why should we favor the death penalty if we’re pro-life?  And why should we support war?  And why shouldn’t we protect our environment?  Spirit, am I missing something?  Jasmine didn’t stop at these questions in her journal.  She asked more, straight from the Bible.  Why did God “harden Pharaoh’s heart” and then send atrocities to the people after God Himself was the one to do the heart-hardening?  Why not soften hearts instead?  And why didn’t God try to soften hearts before He drowned the whole world?  Most especially disturbing to Jasmine was this one: Why, God, why did You command Joshua to commit genocide?  This last one especially enflamed Jasmine.  What kind of a God are You?  Should I really be worshipping You, the One who commanded genocide?  The Spirit sometimes whispered back to her.  Trust Me, child, trust Me.  In time, I will answer your questions.  For now, trust My love for you.
Although she still doesn’t have answers, at least now Jasmine sees her questions into her journal like cleaning her glasses.  They’re therapeutic and, maybe, she hopes, they help her to have clean vision too.  Since Davie entered her life, she’s also gained encouragement that her questions are valid.  By now, she’s certain Davie is also a closet progressive.  Not only that, he’s muscular, athletic, and gorgeous.  Add to that, he’s a youth pastor with a strong spiritual life.  If that isn’t enough, he winks and smiles at Jasmine.  And now, they are USTA mixed doubles partners and he is noticeably flirting with her.  Can there be anything wrong?
            Oh.  Yes.  He’s married.  So is she.
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