When I wake up, the baby is fussing and it’s dark. I nurse him, lay him down, lay myself down and sleep for a while. I wake again, the baby fussing and it’s still dark. I nurse him, fall asleep in the rocking chair, wake up, and it’s still dark. I lay him down and go get on some warmer clothes, workout clothes, put in contacts and sneakers and head out the door. It’s so dark. Even the city lights can’t quite shake off the darkness of right-before-dawn.
I go to the gym and do my thing. Stretch, lift, move, shift, breathe, sweat.
And when I’m done, I open the door to leave and the light is there.
Lately, I spend a lot of time in the dark. And when we change the clocks back, I’ll spend even more time in the dark. But that moment after I work out, when the door opens and artificial fluorescent gym lights are traded for actual, natural light; that moment is sacred to me. There’s something about the light after hard work. Something about feeling the light on your skin. Something about changing how you see, how you think, how you feel.
When the baby is up every hour in the darkness and I cry out to the Lord with tears and with groans in the dark. The light of the morning shifts me and I can feel that I’ll survive the new day, broken sleep and tears and all. I will run with the Lord’s strength. Somehow, He will fill me up with just what I need. But I can only see it in the light, the morning. When it’s dark, all perspective seems lost.
So now I will search for light. Search for it diligently, wondering where I can be shifted, renewed, strengthened by it. If my attitude is dark, I will seek lightness in the silly song of my girl. If my disposition is dark, I will search out the light of my toddler’s eyes and the wrinkles of his smile. When my outlook is dark, I will pick up the baby and listen for the light of his laugh. God will not forsake me. He will provide a light for my path.
He will light my way because He is all light.
And it’s all about the Light.