All is Calm, All is Bright

The rising morning sun blinds my vision and I see stars, though there are none in the sky. My feet continue to move quickly, maintaining the job, despite the blocked vision of what is ahead. 

I have run this road ragged. It is familiar.  I realize, as my awareness of running blind warns me to slow down but my feet refuse to listen, that this is what building a foundation allows. 

To run into what you cannot see. To trust what has always been there will continue to be. To let go of seeing what’s next and have faith. To let faith be enough.

I reach the end and my feet slow down, my eyes still burn with the glare. I am home. 

How many times have I pleaded with God to show me the way when all he has asked of me is to follow in faith rather than sight?

Later in the day the sun is setting and the rooms in my home grow dark. I walk from room to room doing the putterings of a mom—laundry folded here, toys sorted there. My youngest follows me from room to room as I turn on and off lights that guide us.

Then we reach a room he refuses to leave but is not allowed in unattended to. I look at him feeling his air of defiance. Come here. He does not listen, transfixed by drawers and toilet and creams that he likes to suck when no one is looking.

I lean into actions over words as is his way these days and turn the lights off, leaving the room in darkness. Closing the door, leaving a now perceived wall between us I pause, counting to five. Slowly I open the door allowing the little light from the other side to shine through, guiding him away from where he should not be.

He comes eagerly now. Aware of the darkness of going his own way when told no.

Light and darkness what perfect and painful companions they must be. And how God uses them in my life. Allowing the dark to show me I need His light. So I determine to suspend my doubt when God’s finger flips the switch of light in my life from ON to OFF and wonder at the power of darkness to lead me straight to Him.