I’ve grown to enjoy the dark. When the house is still and I have succumb to my reading chair. A night owl I am not and yet I’ve become captivated by what it brings. My senses kick into high gear, hearing sounds I’m too busy to notice in the light of day. And I’ve grown to enjoy the symphony my settling house provides.
Faint smells come to life bringing fond memories into clear view. I’ve washed this afghan countless times but haven’t faded the scent of my great-grandmother’s home. And if I close my eyes I can see her making this for me. I can hear the soft click of her crochet needles in a steady 3-4 rhythm. Her eyes seemed focused on her handiwork, but I know better. She could have made this for me in her sleep. No, she’s anticipating my wedding day, praying for the wife and mother I will become.
Lines, contours, shapes and shadows become stark in the illuminated night. I glance across the subtly lit room and see my favorite fleece throw. The one adorned with atonal notes and musical signatures. I remember vividly the day I was gifted with this thoughtful present. My Grandpa sharing with me “I just knew this was for you when I saw it.” And I smile wide when I realize every room in my home is graced with something he and my beloved Nama have given me.
It’s in the night that I write. Something I always thought I’d never be able to do. And some nights I cannot. My fingers refuse to move, my mind adds clutter to any train of thought passing by.
But every night I try. Because I know.
I know if I show up, He will too.
And even if I don’t get words to come out,
I know we’ll have a much-needed conversation.
My Savior and I.
Our standing date-night.
Sometimes I’ll ask questions and not hear an answer. And the dark of night becomes my reality.
Sometimes I’ll have no agenda and will simply be. With Him. Praising Him. Delighting in being His own. And the black of night becomes forgotten as His light surrounds me.
Sometimes I’ll carry burdens and lay them down at His feet. Striving hard to not pick them up again. And the contrast of night stings as my pain is exposed to the dark air.
Regardless of how many sometimes I encounter, not one of them is the same. With each night, my senses hone in on something new or old once forgotten.
And I’ve grown to enjoy the dark. For in that place I allow my senses to kick into high gear. There’s no telling what joy will be unearthed as a result.
“You light a lamp for me.
The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness.”
Psalm 18:28 NLT
How about you? Do you find time each day/night to meet with Him? What does your standing date look like? I’d love to hear.
Thanks for sharing your time with me.
Linking up with Just Write for my first time
And the last of the spring tour for: