Where There Is Light...

It’s winter.  It’s cold and dreary and my instinct is to hide under covers and wait for it to pass.  But when I do wander outside – to check the mail, to pick up groceries, whatever - I’m always surprised when I see weeds sprouting in the yard or dandelions displaying their vibrant color from between the cracks of the sidewalk.

I don’t know why this always surprises me.  That’s nature’s way, isn’t it?  Where there is Light, there is Life.

This has been a hard year for most people I know.  We’ve all been firmly planted in place by a global pandemic, just waiting for the sun to shine.  Waiting for change.  It can feel really dark and impossible and I want to return to my blanket fort to hide.  But then the light shines for a moment.

This summer, I saw the sun shine on kids – those planted seeds – as they sprouted into social warriors.  They saw injustice, they made signs, they took to the streets and marched and shouted against it (while responsibly masked and social distanced).  They taught this grown up a thing or two about growth. 

More recently, these kids had to make very mature decisions about their own education.  When adults were unwilling to control their behavior enough to protect them, they chose the safety of learning from home.  It’s tedious, it’s frustrating, but they trust that it’s right.  Since I get daily emails from their schools announcing yet another positive Covid case, I have to believe that it’s right, too.

A couple of weeks ago, a beloved middle school counselor – one who meant a lot to each of my kids and to their friends – passed away.  All these kids who knew him and respected him took it upon themselves to gather – with masks and distance – in a parking lot to pay their respects to this man and to send him off with love.  It was beautiful in that cold parking lot to see the lives that were touched by his shining light.

Walking back to the car, I can’t say I was surprised to see that dandelion standing proud and tall from a crack in the asphalt.

Here at home, things have been difficult.  My husband’s year-long struggle with his health, his mobility, and his somewhat broken spirit has weighed heavy on us all.  It’s hard to see that spring will come and the sun will shine once again.  My instinct continues to drive me back under the blankets.

You know what happens when I try to do that?  When I try to hide away in the dark?  The light keeps forcing its way through.  Sometimes, it’s when the sun hits the peephole on the front door and a tiny rainbow appears on the wall. Sometimes, it’s when a friend calls just to ask if we need anything.  Offers of kindness and generosity just keep shining.

I’ve always been kind of reserved in sharing of woe.  I am learning, however, that it’s necessary to open the curtains and let in the light.  Growth happens when the sun shines.  Where there is Light, there is Life.  To all the tenacious light bearers, I give my heartfelt thanks.  I’m learning.  We’re growing.

I'm letting the light shine.