The Present Light

64_large-thumbnail_lone_cottageLying in a mostly dark room with only a night-light casting shadowy figures on the walls. This was my terror. I liked to stay with Me-Me and Pop-Pop, where I left the door ajar and listened to the voice of legendary announcer, Harry Kalas, calling the Phillies game at a decibel only comfortable to someone with a hearing problem. But this voice of normalcy somehow made me feel a little safer from all the evil that, I was sure, lurked outside every door.

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 quilted bed now stands beside a night table laden with chemotherapy drugs and a bed, which sleeps a tired mom and chronically 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.

 

 

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