My highest-rated blog post ever? My post from last night, scolding young men for not courageously asking for dates! Who’da thunk it. We may need to revisit this topic again periodically—not for ratings but because it’s clearly a topic that resonates across generational lines. I received more e-mails than I could possibly reply to in one day, so if you wrote, I will reply—it might just take me a day or two. I appreciate your encouragement, comments, questions, shared experiences, and the opportunity to connect with you. My personal favorite response was from Cerelle T., who wrote, “Have fun and let the Lord drive.” I now have that on a note card by my computer. Great advice!
I had scheduled a personal “social media fast” from tonight until tomorrow night, but we had a death in my extended family, and I cancelled it. Some things matter more than prescheduled events on a calendar.
It hit me tonight that it is often in our losses that we gain the most. Oh, it doesn’t feel like it at the time. In fact, it seems that the loss results in a total emptiness that overtakes us and becomes one that will never loosen its grip from around our hearts, choking the very life from us. We are consumed with the desert-like feel of our dry and barren spirits when the person, desire, or dream is no longer visible in our future, even through the mirage of memories.
Yet in those darkest moments, we learn to appreciate the light—brief though the first little flicker may be:
A smile.
A kind word.
A selfless hug.
A listening ear.
An understanding look.
Each of these acts as one little candle, reaching out to light the next one, and the next, and the next, until once again, light surrounds the heart and shines on the path we are to walk, never removing the darkness, but gradually no longer allowing it to dominate the light.
We may not ever understand this side of heaven why we are called upon to walk through the darkness for a time, a season, or repeatedly. But we know that the Light of the World is there, holding the first candle, providing the first little flicker of hope when hope seems gone and saying, “My grace is enough.” And when we believe that, we look into His light, and its rays point us toward
that smile,
that kind word,
that selfless hug,
that listening ear,
that understanding look
that are being reflected by those He has placed along the new path to walk beside us, encouraging us with their swelling chorus of friendship and love.
This post is dedicated to many, but primarily to Gordon, Linda, and Marvin, my cousins, whose loss is great.
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