The Land of Overhead Lights

I was raised in the land of overhead lights. Every room in our house had overhead lighting... as bright as could be. My parents were raised in homes with oil lamps so they valued the bright lights the REA brought to their family farms. At Cloverly, my mother’s home in Virginia, bare light bulbs hung down from the ceiling lighting even the corners of the large rooms. The chore my mother detested, washing the Alladin lamp chimneys daily to keep them soot free, had come to an end. It was a life altering gift for rural families, akin perhaps to the changes that have come with the computer age.
I am sitting in front of a therapy light as I write, its 10,000 lux beams helping with my light deprivation sadness that comes in winter. It seems to be working as I finish the first week of using it. I need light, sunlight or its equal, for my body and soul to be balanced.
When I remember how God comes to us in our world, it is often as light... fire without heat, a glory light so strong that it was hidden behind a veil, light in the heavens with angels, a transfiguration light. We speak of Jesus as the Light of the World and are told not to hide our lights under a bushel basket.
There have been times in my life when God’s light has been turned on... shocking me, comforting me, calling me out, lighting up all my dark corners and bathing me in restorative beams of loving illumination. The Light that knows no limits in love comes to me in many ways, usually when I least expect it.
This week has been difficult and dark. The school shootings with little children killed, a friend’s hurry up and wait time with a cancer diagnosis, my mother’s ongoing issues with her lung, the absence of my sister...each little darkness seems to lead to another until the Light dims, frayed around the edges by so much grief and worry.
Then two year old Grayson shows up at the Farm Family Christmas party full of his first adolescence vim and vigor, all the world gift wrapped in possibilities just for him. I see his bright smile under his curly mop top head and the darkness lifts. Junie B nuzzles me, speaks to me, lays her head on my shoulder and I feel connected to a Life Force that binds all God’s creatures together. The full moon shines in a winter crisp sky, stars bright and arranged in their many patterns. The night lights remind me that God is so much more than my limited imagination can conceive. I feel wrapped in Light that moves with me. I am a pillar of light, God’s light, and can be light for myself and others.
In this season of darkness, Lord, I thank you for all the night lights I have been given. As my grandchildren are comforted by little beams in their bedrooms, so am I sustained by the glimmers of light in my dark nights. I appreciate the astounding bright light that seems to come when I most need it assuring me of your Presence in my life and your Love. Thank you for the inner light that shone so brightly in Jesus, a light that still gives me a clear path to follow home to You, a Home filled with loving light that knows no end. Amen.