I used to be afraid of the dark.

Now I am afraid of a dream.

Sometimes, in my sleep, I go to a place where I cannot find Justin. I look everywhere desperately. I yell at people and refuse to give up. But I cannot find my youngest son. He is gone.

The same God who was beside my Holly Hobbie quilt in the dark now stands beside a night table laden with chemotherapy drugs and a bed, which sleeps a tired mom and sick little boy. This is a Presence I know and recognize.

I still fear the dream. I may always fear the dream. But it drives me to a deeper understanding of the evil that does, indeed, lurk at every door and our critical need to be rescued from it. And the dark stillness I used to fear, I now realize, only serves to make me more acutely aware of the present Light.

In the stillest, darkest, quietness of night, what do you fear? Grace be with you, my friends.