The Arrival of Hope
I wake in the darkness. The house is still. Only the sound of the furnace kicking on and the light tap of rain on the roof. I find comfort, as I reach my right arm over the covers and find my husband resting peacefully beside me. I find comfort, knowing that my two young adult children are home for the holidays.
Quietly, I slip out of bed, fumbling for my glasses. It’s cold, but I tiptoe out to the family room for my morning quiet time.
This time of year, we wake in the darkness and go to bed in the darkness. The days are short. I think, I’m not fond of winter. I don’t like the darkness. In the darkness I am alone, even when others are near. In the darkness I know only fear. Isolation. Lack of clarity. My mind races, listening, but not for the voice of hope. But overwhelmed by the sound of fear. And, I struggle to keep from drowning in the murky waters of the depths of darkness.
But then, the light creeps in. Light brings hope, like a hand, stretching out to me, lifting me from the depths. And I begin to see in creation the image and voice of the Creator. Small pink buds on the tree branches that sat naked and exposed all winter. The song of birds out my window singing His praises. And life is restored. My fear melts away like the snow and I am free from the clenches of darkness.
At least for now.