Look at my Eyes

"Travis, look at my eyes."
For 15 years, my husband and I have used this phrase to capture the undivided attention of our autistic son.  We learned that, unlike most children, eye contact does not come easily for Travis and other children with autism.  So, in order to be sure that he is listening, we give him this prompt almost daily and sometimes many times a day.  It comes so naturally to us now that we often use the phrase with our other children when we need them to focus on something of particular importance.
"Look at my eyes."

I read a news story this morning about a young boy who had been kidnapped by his father and taken to another country.  For nearly two years, he lived in fear as his father attempted to "change him to a Muslim".  For nearly two years, he lived without seeing his mother.  One day, as he was getting off the school bus, a woman in a burqa grabbed him by the arm and put him in the back of a waiting car.  "My first reaction was [to wonder] if that was my mom or not, and then I saw her eyes," the boy said.  Her eyes.  The ones he hadn't seen for nearly two years.

In reading the scriptures, the phrase "and thus we see" is used whenever the writer wishes to convey a message of importance.
"Look at my eyes."

Of all the gifts bestowed upon me by my Creator, today I am most grateful for my eyes.  They aren't anything special to look at - I have fairly short eyelashes, bushy eyebrows and they are just an average shade of blue - but oh, how special they are to look through.  Through these eyes, I witness miracles.  Every single day.  I see a daughter, usually apprehensive about getting hit on the soccer field, stand her ground against a much bigger girl and save her team from being scored upon.  I see a son, who should be "too cool", bring up coloring pages on his iPod so that the neighbor's toddler will sit still in Sacrament Meeting.  I see the flowers fighting their way to beautiful blooms in this colder-than-usual Utah spring.  I see so many things.

Look at my eyes.