It came as a surprise as I sat in church that Sunday morning. Something was different. Very different. What had happened? What was this strange thing that was happening to me?
Upon reflection, I realized that the darkness had lifted and its place came sunlight, streaming through the open window. More than just sunlight, a gentle breeze wafted through the open panes. I had never experienced something like this before. I had never experienced God like this before.
Someone suggested that perhaps it was an answer to prayer. An answer to the despairing cry of my heart. I asked, "How long would it last? How long before all would go dark again?"
I understand that we do not live on the mountaintops; that most of life is lived in the valley. But this. This wasn't the euphoria of the mountaintop experience. Or was it?
I basked in the warmth and embraced the gentle breeze. The accompanying joy ran deep. Like a well. Deep. Refreshing. Cooling. Embracing.
And then I felt the other too. It too ran deep. Deeper than ever before. It didn't overwhelm; it didn't threaten to loom large. It was just there. Deep. Raw. I wept. Grief doesn't go away even when the sun warms and the breeze refreshes. In fact, maybe because of the two vast extremes that I was experiencing, the intensity of each was accentuated. Joy. Grief. Maybe because I had recognized and was drawing from the deep wellspring of joy that I was able to face the unplumbed depths of my grief.
I no longer worried about when or how long. I wanted to embrace the moment.
The days turned into weeks. Two weeks of sunshine. Two weeks of feeling that gentle breeze.
And then. Morning dawned. It didn't take long for me to notice the difference. It was so obvious. It was, once again, dark. Not a heavy darkness, for while the window was still open, there were no more rays of sunlight. The air was still. How long will it be like this? I don't know.
I am thankful for having had a reprieve from this present darkness. I am grateful for having experienced the refreshing breeze. And now... I guess I will once again wait in the silence. In the stillness. Maybe one day the light will again shine through, dispelling the darkness. Maybe one day I will again feel God's gentle breath blowing through the windows of my soul. Only time will tell.
and my prayer? that until that day, I will remain faithful.
a therapeutic realization - we all know that it's not fun to be making sympathy cards. This one is for one of my dearest friends who lost his father this week. His dad was a man who h...
3 years ago