The Nightlight

          My eyes snap open, and I see nothing. I see darkness, a black inky storm. My heart begins to pound, and my shoulders tense up. My eyes dart around the room seeing monsters of shadow sliding across my bedroom floor. Is that my breathing or is there something else in the room? My eyes hunt around, desperate for focus. I look up to the ceiling. There is my savior. All I have to do is reach up and click the little switch over. Deep breath. I stand up quickly, flick the switch, and fall back into bed with my eyes tightly closed.

Slowly, I open one eye and then the other. With the warm glow that now fills my bedroom, the tightness in my chest releases. Gone are the shadow creatures as my dresser returns. Rows of sweaters hang from my closet and are no longer grasping for my soul. Deep breath in and out.

My dad and I did this dance every night.  I refused to even go into my bedroom without my nightlight on. Tiny little plastic covered savior. He did not think the light was necessary. He swore that you would not sleep right if there was light in the room. “Your brain needs to know that it is night, and it is time to sleep.” Maybe his brain needed to know that, but my childhood brain wanted no part of this relaxing darkness he spoke of. My brain needed the light.

            Every night I would go to bed with the light on, and at some point he would come up stairs and quietly click it off. Not long after I would wake up and turn it on. Fall asleep and repeat process until the sun came up. Click- click. Click-click. I got my stubborn streak from my dad. He and I would both hold out until the end of time if we thought we were right about something.

            I thought of that little nightlight as I was reading a scripture in the Bible that stuck out to me. “The light shine in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome (understood) it.”  John 1:5  Another translation says the darkness “could not put it out.”  The light in this case being Jesus, the Savior.

            I feel like as long as the light- Jesus- is on- walking with me- I see things differently. No longer am I scared of the shadows of things that are not really there. No longer can I be tormented by what ifs and things unseen. With the light on, I can see the truth. The truth is, I have nothing to be afraid of in the dark. Greater is He who is in me that he who is in the world.

            As long as my light is on, I see things for how they really are. I have been a public school teachers for over 10 years. One of the main things that I have learned is to not always look into the darkness without your light on. Some children carry a lot of darkness on their little shoulders. Pain, fear, abuse, sickness, confusion, and more. Without the light, I can perceive these situations in very different ways. I can be upset and be drug into the darkness myself, or I can turn on the light and see what is real. The light beats back the darkness so we can see the truth.

            He isn’t really mad at me or his math. He is mad at his situation that has caused a never ending cycle of fear and abandonment. She isn’t sobbing because she doesn’t want to get in line. She cries because she feels something was taken from her that she has no power to bring back. When I see what is really happening, I can respond with compassion, guidance, and hope.

            I also live in an area where drug use is rampant. Here the verse of the enemy wanting to “kill, steal, and destroy” is not metaphorical. I understand the pain and the devastation this causes. Again, if I turn on the light, I see things a little differently. I see people self-medicating for anxiety and depression. I see people trying to numbing the pain of their past and the vision of their desolate future. I see people who have been overrun with a chemical dependency that is causing them to destroy and ostracize the very people who reach out to them. People making devastatingly hurtful decisions for both themselves and those that love them in order to escape the pain.

            Such a fine line to walk. I love you, but I will not let you continue on this way. I see the darkness you are immersed in, but I will not sit there with you. I will turn on the light. I will speak truth. I will love you as the Father loves you, stand with you, but not crawl through the dirt with you. I love you too much to not turn on the light.

            Sometimes we do have to let go. But the light helps. It helps us to see what is real and what is not. It helps to talk it out with our Savior to know when I should step in and when I need to step back or out

            I need the Light. I need to be able to see what is real and what is not. I need the light to release my fear and soften my heart. “4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death (the darkest valley), I will fear no evil: for you are with me.” Psalm 23:4 I do not have to fear the terror of night (Psalm 91:5) because the Light is with me.  When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12) Never will I fear the darkness.

John 12:35-37 NIV

35 Then Jesus told them, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. Whoever walks in the dark does not know where they are going.

36 Believe in the light while you have the light, so that you may become children of light.” 

 

castles and waves

The tears streamed down her round little face with a look of horror behind her eyes. I panicked and even though I knew it was futile, I actually decided to try and stand in the way of the ocean to stop it. You can imagine that went over well as the waves just swept over me. The white foamy water which she had danced in a couple hours and a few feet ago was now a force of destruction instead of the bringer of joy. The mighty and now evil ocean was destroying her castle, her kingdom.

          Bella and daddy had spent the afternoon building a tower of majesty all afternoon. To the average on looker it would have appeared to only be a moderately impressive sand castle, but to Bella it was her kingdom. They had scraped out a moat with their hands and dug windows with their fingers. Tall peaks graced the top, and Scott had used a stick to make fancy designs. She danced around laughing and singing…that was until the ocean came.

          I didn’t realize she didn’t know that eventually the ocean was coming. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Horror alighted in Scott and I’s face as we watched the waves crash over the kingdom, and my little girl’s face crumple into a river of tears. At once, we promised that we would make her a new castle tomorrow. A bigger one. A better one.  As she balled her little fists up she exclaimed, “Why? The ocean is just going to come again to eat it!” Then she stomped off.

          Later that evening we showed her pictures we had taken of her palace and talked about how we couldn’t have taken it with us when we went home anyway. The fun was in making the castle, and we could start over tomorrow. Although she grudgingly agreed, she still didn’t want to build another castle for the rest of that trip. I don’t if any of us had the emotional stamina for another kingdom being overtaken by the evil Ocean Empire.

Therefore, everyone who hears these words of mine AND puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the stream rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet, it did not fall because it had its foundation on the rock. BUT everyone who hears these words of mine and does NOT put them into practice is like a foolish man who build his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the wind blew and beat against the house, and it fell with a great crash. Matt 7:24-27

          Sand is not a good place for building. Even when the ocean is not attacking, sand grains are irregularly shaped and sharp. When sand is the foundation, the grains sit there loose with voids in between them. Sand cannot compact and will never be a piece of solid earth. Being that a foundations primary function is described as “the natural or prepared ground or base on which some structure rests,” sand does not make the cut as stable. It’s too shifting. Too unstable. Too full of hiding voids.

          The first thing that jumps out in this scripture is that it is directed to “everyone who hears these words of mine.” This is addressed to the church people. The people praising, worshiping, giving the money, teaching the Sunday school classes, and taking notes in their bibles. The church. It’s not like you can claim you never knew. Often….so very often…my second graders and my other children I birthed will say to me “you never told me that. You must be thinking of another kid. If I would have heard you then I would have done it.”

Ahhhh….selective hearing of little blessings. One day I am going to develop some selective hearing. “Oh I didn’t know that you needed that dress cleaned by today? Oh I am sure that you never told me that. Sorry.” This is one of the moments you are talking to your friends and say “yep, I just told her I didn’t hear her ask for me to wash it just like she didn’t hear me ask her to take care of the dogs.” Friends say “DID you say that?” “No, but I could have!”

          We are planted into one of two survivor camps. We all hear the words, what comes next is what separates us. One had heard the Words of the Lord and put them into practice. He was like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The foolish man, the one who did not put the words of God into practice, was the man with a house built on sand.

          Another commonality in the stories is that both houses are standing in the same storm. The Word says “the rain came down, the streams rose, and the wind blew and beat against the house.” This was a storm from all angles. The rain came from the sky in streaks of torrent hitting the top. The streams rose and began to batter the bottom of the structure. As the top and bottom are fighting their own battles, it says the winds blew and beat against the house.

          Jesus loves to tell stories because he knows we are picture people. We need to see it and figure it out. So he gives us this story.

          I picture the rain coming down is from an unresolved sin in my life. It just keeps pounding and pounding. Keeping me up at night. Almost trying to dig through the roof to meet me. The stream that rose could be none other than the strife of debt. A small trickle at first that is now this mighty river that will sweep you away. Circling around your house in the wind that blew and beat against the house, battering nonstop, is a failing marriage, a job you lost, rebellious children, depression, anxiety. It just keeps hitting.

          Both builders heard “these words of mine” and both are experiencing the same storm. Storms are not the “IFS” in life, they are the “WHENS.” What was the deciding factor? The storm windows, the expensive basement draining system, the strong wood and metal shoring up the skeleton of the house. Nope. None of it. It comes back to the beginning.

A safe house must be built on a secure foundation. The purpose of a foundation is to hold up and hold together for the structure above it.  A foundation of sand can roughly hold 1500-3000 pounds per square feet. Rock can support on average 3000- 12,000 pounds per square feet- 4 times as much. Don’t blame the sand. He never asked the coach to be put in this game! He just wants to chill by the ocean, have kids decorate him with toys, castles, and towels. He knows that this isn’t the place to build. But someone didn’t because they heard the word, BUT didn’t put it into practice.

The others who are yet to hear the word are watching. They see two testimonies. Two houses. After all, both men heard. Both go to church. Both are good people and treat others with respect. One took the Word of God and lived it. He mediated on the Word, he looked for ways to bring the kingdom down to earth, and a way to multiply his talents for his master. He acted upon loving his God and actively looked for ways to join with the work.

The second did not. The word was heard. Probably appreciated. Heads nodded and notes taken. However, he did not put them into practice. He would have had what he considered valid reasons. His debt is too high, and his time is to short. We will grow as a family when we have time. I will serve God and look for my place in His world when I have time. When I have the time and money, I will shore up this foundation.

The sky turns dark. There is a heaviness in the air that tells us something is coming. The wind gentle and refreshing at first and then picks up pace. Soon the drizzle turns into streaks of stinging rain and the wind is throwing things in your face. Water surrounds your ankles. You go into your house. The structure that is supposed to protect you in the storm.

When was the moment they realized the sand was wasn’t going to hold? Was it the cracking of the walls and floors as they shifted with their structural weakness?  Was it the shift they felt under their feet? The foundation won’t hold. It is all coming down, and “it fell with a great crash.”

Jesus wasn’t instructing carpentry 101 even though I am certain he is qualified to do so. He was trying to speak to the people about the foundation of their lives. What they stood on and for. He gave them, all of them listening, the answer for survival. Not just how to survive but how to flourish. Hear my words! Put them into practice. Build on the unshakable foundation of God’s trusted and true words.

Shifting and voids. Conditional truths and illusion of beauty. Feelings not vows. Convenience not sacrifice. My wants, my feelings, my expectations, and eventually my failures.

The storm will come. It will bring a hell fury like none you have seen. When you stand on what you know, what will sustained you? Will it hold against the storm? After the destruction of this storm passes, will you still be standing on the firm rock foundation? Or will the ocean of life swept over you claiming your castles and treasures?

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Not a once upon a time

Once there was a little girl in first grade with long red hair who was painfully shy and quiet. On the other side of the church sat a yellow haired, beautiful brown eyed boy whose eyes always danced with laughter. He noticed her in church one day and proudly told his mom “see that girl with the long red hair? I am going to marry her someday!”

On one particular day, the little girl was furious with the mischievous boy. For the rest of CCD, they had to sit silently with their heads down because someone couldn’t behave themselves. The little girl was worried that her teacher was mad at her even if she hadn’t almost ever spoken a word. But the little boy smiled and laughed. He wasn’t worried. He never worried.

One went one direction and the other, another. They both grew up with their share of happiness, sunshine, and rain. As middle school opened up, the girl decided that she wanted to start attending a youth group at the little white church on top of the hill. This weekend the youth group was meeting up with the sister church and going on a hike. The girl and her friends piled into the car and traveled to the other church. As she stood off to the side, twisting her ear ring around and around – a nervous habit that went unnoticed to her by now- she heard laughter. The group seemed to swallow him up as he chuckled and joked. She looked over at him and wished that she could be that. She could be like the sunshine.

            During the hike he came over. She assumed to meet her very pretty friend. His hair was bright yellow and his eye lashed longer than anyone’s she had ever saw. He never introduced himself, and she didn’t know his name. So he became the kid with the “ogre” hands. She remembered looking at his hands and wondering how he got such large hands.

            The story went on. The two finally connected anda friendship of unlikely sorts was formed. Over the next couple of years, he would throw gum in her hair and hide ice cubes in her sleeping bag. Her face would almost crack each time she tried to look sternly at him only to laugh. He dumped her out of a canoe and held her hand when another broke her heart. He made her laugh. She made him smile. Seasons came and went and they grew.

            He would tell the now teenage girl with the now longer red hair that he loved her. She would laugh. He would call her at night, and they would talk until early mornings. She would sing to him and he would tell her loud and outrageous stories just to get her to laugh. One night the ordinary became extraordinary and the simple became complex. They were on the phone. She made him laugh, a feat she was quite proud of since humor wasn’t her strongest point. He laughed and said “I love you!” She smiled and said “I love you too.”

            Silence. As if the world had paused in its rotation to wait. He quietly asked her to repeat that. She shyly whispered back. And in fairy tales, that would be that. But sometimes real life is often stronger and more complex than happily ever after. After all, growing up together was still growing up. Graduation came and the future came barreling upon them. The only thing they were sure of was that they weren’t very sure of anything. But he took his larger than life hand and wrapped them around her small and shaking one. She smiled, and he laughed and they began.

            Today that boy with the bright blond hair shaves his head, but his dark beard brings out his dark eyelashes even more. Her red hair is shorter and she never wears ear rings now, although she still tugs at her ear when she is nervous. Fifteen years ago, she walked down the aisle on the arm of her daddy never as sure of anything as she was of this. He stood at the other end of the aisle, the boy who poured out confidence, and was racked with nerves because he was scared he couldn’t give her all out of life that he felt she deserved. But she smiled. He smiled.

            If this was a fairy tale of “Once upon a time”, here would be the happily ever after. Real life is more complex a thing. Thank God for that. Because in the trials when you look through the tears and feel that hand grab for yours, you know. When he washes your hair for you on the morning of your Dad’s funeral service because you can’t lift your arms, you know. When she won’t let you give up on yourself and tells that boy to stand back up, even if it hurts, you know. You know when he carries you to the bathroom after months of being ill with an unknown cause, and you know when she brings you 3 bags of chocolate chip cookies  after knee surgery.  You know that you have found something special that not everyone is blessed enough to find. You are not perfect and the sighs and the bickering over laundry will come, but you know that you will never be alone. That after all this time, your best friend has become your everything. We are going to make it. You know when you laugh so hard your eyes water and your side splits. You know when he starts to sing in the kitchen and dances you around. You know when she saves the last brownie for you and agrees to sit through another season of your favorite sci-fi series. You know.

            I couldn’t be more grateful and blessed. I love you Scott Alan. Forever and a day.