“I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam.”
(Annie Dillard,
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
A few years ago, while on a silent retreat in Cape May, I followed a daily rhythm of praying before dinner on the long wrap-around porch. The cooler late-afternoon breeze would be refreshing after a day spent on the warm beach, and I could always find a place on the winding long porch to catch the best sea-breeze. Sometimes it would be too windy, and I would take shelter on the inside porch facing the courtyard.
One day it had been raining constantly. The sky was dark gray with thick layered clouds. But the porch roof was covered so I gathered up my journal and bible and headed for the porch at my usual time. As I sat on the porch facing the courtyard and protected from rain, I looked up and noticed a shaft of light cutting through the dark clouds in the west and landing on a small portion of the porch, around a far corner. I almost laughed aloud when I saw it. The wrap-around porch, lined with rocking chairs and other silent women, was still entirely in shadow, except for this one small area of brilliant light. No one else seemed to notice the light falling there. It felt like a gift that only I could see.
Suddenly I felt a God-nudge to get up from my rocking chair and walk around the long porch to the other side, and sit down in that beam of light. It seemed the Holy One was saying, "Don't just look at the light -- be in the light." It's hard to explain how powerful that experience was for me. It would have been easy just to remain where I was sitting, in the shadows, appreciating the light from afar. I wondered: how many times have I been content with just looking at God's light from a distance? But now I was being invited to place myself right in the middle of God's light. Soak it up. Be in it.
Grape vines cannot walk over to where the sun is shining. They must rely on the wise gardener to plant them where the sunlight will bathe them. We, too, cannot cause light, as Annie Dillard says. We need to wait for the light to appear and then respond by placing ourselves within the light.
Once the light appears, how will we respond? Will we be content to just gaze at the light from afar - or will we get up and put ourselves in its beam?
Song: Lean in Toward the Light by Carrie Newcomer
Blessing:
Blessed are you who bear the light in unbearable times, who testify to its endurance amid the unendurable, who bear witness to its persistence when everything seems in shadow and grief. Blessed are you in whom the light lives, in whom the brightness blazes— your heart a chapel, an altar where in the deepest night can be seen the fire that shines forth in you in unaccountable faith in stubborn hope in love that illumines every broken thing it finds.
~ Jan Richardson in CIRCLE OF GRACE
I would like to close this week's reflections on Light, with this precious song of blessing for each of you. I encourage you to listen to it - maybe in the light? or imagining yourself standing or sitting in bright sunlight. Perhaps a spiritual practice you might choose for this week could be once a day, intentionally placing yourself in the light where it is shining.
Remain (abide) there for a few moments - like the grapevine and branches.... blessings!
Sending You light - Ana Hernandez and Fran McKendree
I am sending you light
to heal you, to hold you
I am sending you light
to hold you in Love.
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