Monday, November 25, 2013

Of darkness and the Light

"Oh, so you're not going?"

"No-o-o-o... I think I'm just going home. See you tomorrow!"

I edged toward the door of the multipurpose building, waving goodbye to my co-workers. Business meeting didn't appeal to me, seeing as how I had some things to do at home. I'd brought my car, anyway--my "Heidi-mobile" as Tony called it the other day.

As I stepped outside, it hit me: I had no flashlight, and I had to walk all the way from Sky Lodge out to the big YD sign, then turn and walk all the way down the long driveway to my the dark. I looked for a moon, but it hid its face. A few stars glittered, but they didn't shed any light on my feet.

When I was small, I was afraid of the dark. There are times when I like it, like during flashlight tag--but even today, being alone in the dark unnerves me just a little. Especially when it's so dark you can't see anything. And I literally couldn't see a thing.

I tried to visualize the road in my head, stepping with confidence. I probably looked like I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't see a thing. I felt silly as I walked past the little white car in the driveway, just getting ready to leave.

A few more steps and the headlights flipped on. Ah! I could see! I walked faster, trying to get as far as I could while I had some light. But soon enough, the car sped on past me and disappeared, leaving me in perfect blackness again.

I'd made it to the sign. But I still couldn't see. I shuffled my feet a little, trying to feel my way down the little slope in the road that I knew I would fall on if I wasn't careful. Bit by bit, I made it, and then kept walking.

A few more steps and I heard another car: Tony and co. came down the hill, headed for the business meeting. The silver van paused at the bottom of the road from the kitchen, and they must've wondered what I thought I was doing, marching away down the road without a light. The glow from their headlights got me safely another 20 feet before they, too, crunched away down the road and disappeared.

No more cars would be coming. I knew that. I walked ahead into the darkness, not being able to see my feet, not able to see anything...but wait!

Way down the road, I could see a light. The porch light on my office turns on when it gets dark, and I fixed my eyes on it. Now it didn't matter where my feet went: as long as I kept my eyes on that light, I knew I'd get there alright.

A few times my eyes strayed to the thick ebony shades along the invisible sides of the road, and my mind ran rampant with the thought of what could be out there... No, no. Eyes on the light, eyes on the light....

And suddenly, there I was. My car sat in the drive, the porch light cast a welcome pool of light all around and I stepped inside the office, the journey finished.

Profound? I think so.

Keep on walking, friend. It may be dark right now, but God always provides lights along the way--and a Light at the end that won't ever fade into the distance. Keep your eyes on the light.

When darkness wraps around me: 
shadows, darkness, night;
I'll step ahead in confidence,
my eyes upon the Light.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013


"So how are you?" The chat message blinked onto my screen.

"Oh, it's been a regular Monday, even though it's Tuesday." I reply, typical to me. "But actually, it wasn't a bad day... And I'm genuinely happy. Like, really happy. And God is just so good. You know that?"

I didn't realize until I was chatting with my friend yesterday.

I really am happy. No, like, REALLY happy.

I have lots of reasons not to be.
Lots of things that I could worry, wonder, agonize, hurt about.

But amazingly enough, I go searching for those things and can't find very many of them.

I'm really happy.

It must be the Lord.
Because it certainly isn't me.

I just finished reading an inspiring post this morning. Hannah Rayne's post about handing over dreams, hopes--the sweetest desires we have--impressed me.

But more than that.

I sit and wonder...

Am I this happy: this genuinely happy: because finally, after the battle and blood... I've finally been able to hand my sweetest hopes to God and trust Him?

But how could that be? I didn't do anything enormous.
I didn't even realize it.
In fact, the only thing I've been doing is offering a feeble attempt and an earnest desire to God to surrender...


This is no bell pealing madly in some dusty corner of the universe. This is right next door. I know it.

Is it really supposed to be so simple?

My heart overflows.

Praise God...

I look over at the scarred hand that holds those fond hopes. And I smile.

I'm happy to leave them there until He's ready to hand them back, better than ever before.

Thank you, Hannah, for putting things in perspective.

Friday, November 8, 2013

Those Times

There are those times. You know?

Times when everything is right, but it doesn't feel that way. When that one, nagging, tiny (but large), and very heavy detail is...missing.

Often you don't know what it is.
Often, if you do know, you couldn't articulate it.
Even oftener, when you do know, you don't have the heart to tell a soul.

You feel like you're going to burst or implode.
Speed up way too fast or slow down way too much.
Eat too much or too little.

Balance seems unattainable.
Equilibrium a dream.
And sanity? We won't even mention that.

There are those times. You know?


As my fingers type the words, I'm revealing in clandestine way what's going on inside of me. 

The heaviness in you I seem to know so much about? I'm feeling it. 
The sadness you can't explain--and yet, how does that girl know what I can't explain? I'm there.
That unattainbly, unexplainably, unretainably and unbelievably strange...time. And here it is, at least half in words. Your eyes rivet to the screen. How does she know that?


I'm here. I'm there. 

What I tell you about yourself I only know because I'm that way too.


Keys clatter. Eyes scan. Head turns. 

And I sigh. For about the thousandth time today.

Yes, I can explain it. 
And no, I can't.

It's one of those times. And as I write about it, my heart gets heavier and heavier, shrinking beneath a weight, half nameless and half not. Clatter, clatter, clack. Type, type, type...

I'm revealing my class trick. My secret. How I know "everything." 

And as I type those words... "I'm here. I'm there."....

From somewhere I hear it.


An echo. I'm here. I'm there.

My eyes shift to the ceiling of the office. My heart stills a moment. 

And, with a half-smile inside, I nod. Yes, You are. You surely know all about it. 

But it's not quiet yet. More than just know... I feel it too. 

Flicker of doubt. How? How can You feel this empty ache, when it's probably my just reward? When I've brought it all on myself, when almost all hope is gone, when I see no way to...?

Moment of truth. Because I love you, anyway.

You love me anyway...


There are those times. You know?

Friday, November 1, 2013

Seek to be found

It speaks. Fills. Warms.

Music is a language that some speak fluently.

I don't speak it fluently.

But I hear it fluently.

I'll be plodding along through life, minding my own business, and all of a sudden, there's a song. Not just any song, either. One that has fingers, breath, life, a heart, emotion. One that takes those airy, invisible fingers and reaches right down into my heart and clutches at me in rapture. What can I do but listen?

I don't go looking for the ones like that. They find me.

My own musings of life and love have brought me to similar conclusions.

The blessings God has for me. They'll find me.

"Seek and ye shall find..."

Yes, I know.

But I think He meant "seek ME and ye shall find..."

And then, He will bring, give, bless just like He wants to.

I guess what He's asking me to do is to seek to be found.

I'm still listening to these songs on repeat. The awe hasn't worn away yet. And I didn't go looking for them. They found me.

I'll remember that.