Breathing on Embers 11/8/2020

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

Dusk and dawn are powerful forces.  Not only do they come with all their spectacle of sky filling hues but they wring every ounce of value out of whatever light they are given. When the sun comes up the firmament brightens long before we ever see it. Daybreak comes with such intensity and impact as a light forbearer that the darkness cannot be maintained even despite the fact that the massive star has yet to even clear the horizon.  When the sun is done for the day, dusk takes a similar course of action.  The sky will be long vacant of its giant blazing beacon, yet the glow remains. In various shades of vivid color it lingers until all that is left is a silvery blue glow but the darkness is facing a fight to take up residency.  The shadows will eventually gain ground but will only keep it until the dawn starts its march again, early and insistent.  You can’t find the sun for a large chunk of either of these two times of day however, the light is already maintaining a steady and authoritative presence.

I am talking about light and dark because it is what has been on my mind a great deal lately.  This year has been, well, unique, to put it as mildly and as generously as I possibly can.  I think most would argue that it seems most every event and every occurrence that has filled life lately has been clouded by some sort of shadow.  We’ve had darkness of almost every form enveloping almost every facet of our lives. How we interact with our loved ones, shadowed.  How we do our day to day activities, overcast.  The simplest of everyday elements that we had unknowingly taken for granted, dimmed.  It has felt of late that there isn’t a dawn coming.  Just when it seems that perhaps the gleam is on the horizon another wave of ink overtakes us and the blackest of midnight is seemingly given free reign.

We are all pretty weary.  Even the most mundane of issues seems to have found a way to morph into an outright calamity. I would imagine that in the very darkest parts of the night are those times where even the glimmers of hope seem false; only distant candles in a windstorm.  I think we have all been through, or are going through, those hours of the night that can seem positively never-ending.  While I have gone on and on about darkness and shadow and its loathsome weight on every facet of life, that is not the focus of this blog. Though I do not want to negate the gravity of shadow I do feel it is of the utmost importance to emphasize the unshakable fact that it cannot now, nor can it ever, overcome light.

Despite how long the midnight, despite how massive and oppressive the gloom, it cannot win.  Light, even in most miniscule form of single tongue of flame can rip through the darkness like the sharpest of blades.  No matter how black the obscurity it cannot put out light. There is not a time now, nor has there ever been a time, nor will there ever be a time that light is overcome and snuffed out by dark. Be sure to hold tightly to that fact. There will be days and Heaven knows there will be nights, where that certainty will seem an impossibility. I daresay for some this moment now is their “dark night of the soul” when the only thing that they are certain of is the palpable, seemingly unending blackness around them.  I beg of them to remember what I have had to wrestle myself into remembering many times. Darkness can no more put out light than I can make the sun cease to shine by giving it a stern talking to. One match in a vast arena puts the darkness to flight.  Yes, shadows remain, but they are not the superior force.

I write this as a reminder to myself, and to all of us, to raise our lanterns.  I know you can find countless things to remind you of the midnight murk. Maybe it’s storming too.  Maybe you can’t see your hand in front of your face but you can most assuredly feel the sting of the battering rain and the disconcerting howl of the angry wind. I urge you now more than ever, be the light.  I know it feels like your lamp won’t hold up but please know, the darkness can’t put it out. I don’t care if we are talking a hundred miles below ground at 2 am whilst under a black velvet blanket type of dark. Your tiny glow of hope dispels darkness.  Light is the supreme power even though it often doesn’t feel like it. Your tiny spark could be the catalyst to a blaze of unprecedented proportions. 

If you’ve ever been around a really large fire, you know how far away it can be seen.  The glow of such a blaze can be seen for miles.  But I don’t have a big fire of hope like that you may be thinking.  All it takes is the slightest breath on a dying ember.  You were created with a purpose.  If it were not so you would not be.  Let the Source of Hope and Father of Lights fan the flame.  Know that there is always Hope. As long as there has been Light and dark the two have competed for the same space in this world. Light wins. I know there are days when, it doesn’t even seem like the tunnel has an end, much less a light at the end of it.  Oh my friend, let this blog, as trivial as it may be, (and please know I am acutely aware of the lack of consequence it likely has), let it show you a tiny spark. 

I will do all I can to lift my light high.  It too sputters on occasion when I am faced with moments of encompassing pitch.  But morning comes even when the night is long. It all may start as a faint glimmer off in the distance.  Hold on to it. Embrace it.  The greedy dawn will do the rest.  With patient endurance, glow will fill the sky that was once ink and soot. It may start dimly but know that in time the ashen expanse will birth color and light and day will break.  Light always triumphs over darkness. No matter how things look or seem. Joy comes in the morning.