Me and my dog. We walked briskly through the winter’s night. Moving from the golden glow of the street light’s reflection on the pavement into the shadowy mystery found in the night’s darkness. Freshness and truth breathing in and out of me. Subtle beams from porch lights to guide us along… the houses a blur. Life within moving. Life without quiet. Just me and my dog. Moving through time and air and breath. Embracing the mystery of the moment… What’s done is done. Daylight washed away by an ever-revolving earth. Absorbed by the quietness of darkness for a moment.
Each step moves us closer to where we started from. A place where the things that define me are wrapped up with wood and paint… Green, orange, yellow, blue… The colors of me. Husband, daughters… The people of me. Pictures, heirlooms, journals… the past of me. Unfinished business, empty pages… The hope of me. But, in this moment of dark and night, between beginning and ending, I feel so alive. Not afraid of what I don’t see, but peace in the picture that lies in the distance. I know it’s there. I know there are snow-capped mountains that turn shades of fiery pink when the sun sets. I’ve seen the palm trees that move steadily with the breeze. There are Jacaranda trees that bathe the streets with lavender petals in late spring. I know they’re there too.
We stop for a moment at the softball field. Many nights the floodlights beam while games and fans fill the air. Tonight the lights are off. I pull the hood from my sweatshirt over my head, covering my femininity. I lay down on a bench in the dugout. My dog goes to his post and dutifully stands guard next to the chain link fence at the entrance… We’ve been here before. I feel free to give myself away to the night. Closing my eyes. Letting the coolness rest on my face. Colors, people, past, and hopes seem to become one beautiful picture of a very small life in a very big world. It is at peace. I am at peace.
I’m not afraid of the dark. Sometimes I feel more life in what can’t be seen than in what can be. There’s a purity that becomes me and the corrosion that has covered me just doesn’t seem to belong… As if certain things just don’t or can’t matter anymore. And oftentimes, this is where He holds me closer. Safe. This is when I hear His faintest whisper. Soft. This is how I know He’s present. Still. In these dark spaces– Trusting that in the light of day, there is something there that just might take my breath away.