Have you seen anyone walking around in a gorilla costume lately?
Would you have noticed?
I thought I would have noticed, but I didn’t! I recently took a 6-week course called “Relational Wisdom,” taught by a long-time friend of mine, Patti Damiani. She lives in Traverse City, Michigan, now, but distance didn’t matter; it was online learning. She showed the class a video clip of two teams playing basketball. We were told to watch the team in the white shirts and count how many times they passed the ball to each other in only a minute or so.
After we were done watching, the question was asked, “Did you notice the gorilla?”
“A gorilla?” was my shocked reply. I had been so busy counting the ball passes that I didn’t see the gorilla! I couldn’t believe there really was a gorilla!
Patti played the video again. There it was—a big fat gorilla (well, actually someone in a big, fat gorilla costume), walking between the players on the basketball floor. My other classmates didn’t notice it either. Patti explained that we’d just experienced “Selective Perception.” We were so focused on watching the ball that we missed the gorilla.
This reminded me of something I’d heard at Widows Journey Retreat earlier this year. Gayle Roper spoke of how sometimes a person can become so focused on her grief and old memories that she loses sight of the life currently going on around her. Picture someone trying to walk forward when they keep looking behind them.
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SOMETIMES A [WIDOW] CAN BECOME SO FOCUSED ON HER GRIEF AND OLD MEMORIES THAT SHE LOSES SIGHT OF THE LIFE CURRENTLY GOING ON AROUND HER.
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There are other examples of this, too, not only in grief. Do you remember the Pharisees in the Bible? Jesus called them hypocrites because they saw splinters in other people’s eyes but not the log that was figuratively stuck in their own; they liked to point out other people’s sin, not realizing or admitting their own. The Pharisees selective perception blocked them from seeing their own sin.
It’s like a filter we aren’t really aware of; we naturally favor certain things and avoid others, sometimes to the point of not even seeing what we don’t want to see because it makes us uncomfortable. We see this happen when young people (and us old ones, too!) fall in love. “What does she see in him?” we wonder. “What does he see in her?” In these cases, selective perception can be a good thing! Without it, I doubt that anyone could fall in love with some of us!
I’ve also noticed selective perception on another level—as a widow. This was when people would approach me with that question, “How are you?” Certain folks would start nodding their heads before I had even answered. “Yes, yes, that’s good! I’m so glad you’re fine,” they’d say and nod before I had a chance to tell them, “No, I’m not fine, and I don’t know if I will ever be fine again.” But those words never fell from my lips.
“I’m fine,” I’d quickly say when I noticed the nodding. I was just as uncomfortable honestly telling them as they were about hearing me. The conversation was quite cut off before it could really begin. It always fell flat and sort of flopped around. The nice intentions were appreciated, but the perceptions were not real, and I didn’t know how to correct them. Widowhood is very awkward, isn’t it? It might be easier to wear a gorilla suit and not be seen sometimes.
During this month of June, maybe there’s some selective perception in the middle of the calendar— Father’s Day. If you’re widowed, would you like to stay so busy you don’t even see it? Pretend it doesn’t exist? Wish it’d just go away?
I’m reminded of one widow who decided she’d face it head on and dub it “Heavenly Father’s Day.” She wanted a reminder that God’s love and care for her would always last; nothing could separate her from His love.
Her comment reminded me that while selective perception can blind us to potential problems, an alternative outlook — eternal perspective — can open our eyes up to countless blessings. Instead of avoiding what’s going on around us, we can begin to embrace it because God’s love surrounds us and lasts forever.
This is not something others should force upon you, but when you are ready, begin to consider God’s perspective of your plight. He loves you more than you can imagine or sense. God cares about each heartbreak, each pain, and every tear that falls. He sees you far beyond human visualization. A thousand years are like one day in God’s sight, and He sees thousands of years into our tomorrows. He also saw your life before it began; He sees your life today; He sees what it will be like in Heaven. Turn your thoughts to the comfort of eternal perspective. When we believe in Christ, we have a forever home. In that good and secure place, God will wipe away all our tears.
As a child, did you ever lay down on the grass on a warm summer day? Hands resting under your head, did you gaze up into the blue sky and wonder how high it really went? Where, exactly, was Heaven? What would it be like?
Questions like these, which come so naturally to a child who is being taught to think and grow (rather than plunked down in front of a television), are why I believe Jesus said, “You must have faith like a child.” Asking a question isn’t a lack of faith; it’s a step on a journey of faith. Questions help us try to see beyond our selective perception.
One of my favorite books about Heaven is a children’s picture book, ideal for reading aloud. “Someday Heaven,” by Larry Libby, published by ZondervanKidz, may be found online or through a local bookstore. It’s a good conversation starter that you can use over and over again. Talking helps all of us, adults and children alike, to work through grief. On each page is a question such as the following: “Will my Grandpa still be old in Heaven? Will I ever be sad in Heaven?”
There are a total of fourteen questions geared to a child’s interests, but they are satisfying for adults too.
Father’s Day for those without a father or husband may interrupt and sometimes upset our sense of peace and perception. It might seem to rudely barge in and detour us to focus on losses and regrets. Unfortunately, this selective perception blinds us to the hope of eternal perspective; we only see the sad part of the story.
What would you like to look at today? Let’s all find a patch of lawn, lie down, and open our eyes to look upwards to our forever home. We’re closer today than we were yesterday. Our hearts may be heavy, and that’s to be expected, but our forever home is full of hope that never disappoints. //
Until next month,
ferree
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Ferree Hardy has helped thousands of widows through her book, “Postcards from the Widows’ Path,” small groups, speaking, and personal coaching, but touching one life at a time is what matters most to her. She holds a BA from Moody Bible Institute, and was a pastor’s wife in Ohio for over twenty years before her first husband died. She’s happily remarried now, and her readers know that moving seems to have become a hobby for her. But she also enjoys backyard chickens, aims to read fifty books a year, and loves to bake. Learn more by visiting her blog.