Darkness

Last night, as the sun dipped below the horizon, and the wind howled ....out went the lights.  Candles were lit, sparingly, not knowing how long it would last, this darkness.  We were still ....not very quiet, but still.  We were shut down.  I sat there thinking about the darkness, how real it is ...how dark it is.  I am a person of the light.  I don't like the dark...unless there is some light to make it glow.  Some people really do like it when there is no light.  I remember a conversation not too long ago with Phoebe ...about the woods and the dark.  I was telling her again about a date dad had taken me on a year or so ago.  He had grabbed head lamps, told me we'd have fun ...we were going for a bike ride.  "Where are we going?"  "Just follow me, you'll see."  "Where are we going?" I insisted.  A sigh, "trust me, it'll fun."  "I'm not going if I don't know where to."  I can be very impatient.  I hold on tight to the known.  I like a plan ...that makes sense to me.  He knows me well enough ..."You'll be safe, and if you don't like it we'll turn around."  Reluctantly, I hopped on and followed.  We turned right, down the road to World's End.  It is a place home to countless wildlife ...deer, coyote, owls, foxes, lots and lots of them.  I like all these animals, I just don't want to come face to face with one or have it chase me down.  I like control.
Phoebe had giggled when I was telling her this tale again.  "I love the woods at night, I love the dark."  She'd said.  She had spent much time in the woods, in the wild, at night ...in the darkness.  "Doesn't it feel creepy, scary?"  "Not at all, why would you think that?"  We talked about that difference between us.  Phoebe wasn't afraid of the dark.  I am.  I thought a lot about her last night as I sat in the dark ...missing her.  We were all here.  Where would she have chosen to be in the house if she were here with us?  It is a mighty strange thing to miss a child that has died.  It simply doesn't make sense.  It will take a life time for this to become part of my life, probably never feeling quite normal. Even though I know where she is, even though there is great comfort and assurance ...it is still too dark for me.  And I hear her whisper to me ...it's okay, the darkness is not bad, because it is always lit by Christ.  But I am sad, not in a desperate way. I am just deeply, deeply sad that my walk with Phoebe is done.
That night we rode the bikes through World's End made my heart race.  Through trails, over rocks, the headlamps lit the way, but beyond the reach of light ...there was still darkness.  It wasn't light enough for me.  I had to just trust.  We headed to the highest point.  From there we could see the skyline of Boston, the twinkle of the lights, boats crossing the bay, all lit.  The big dark sky blanketed us.  It was spectacular.  A view, a setting, a darkness that made the beauty so bold ...so rare.  We took it in ....and then ...the reflection of ten eyes back at us.  Startled, I was sure a pack of coyotes had silently followed us, planned the attack, waited to pounce.  I was sure there were more behind us, others in front.  How would we escape?  See, I thought, the sinister had found us in the dark.  My husband knew my angst.  He turned his headlamp on.  Deer.  Five beautiful, elegant deer stared back at us. 
Deer are very symbolic for our family.  They settle us for some reason.  And I was settled as I marveled at them.  Fairly large, but dainty, they move with such a lightness.  I love to watch them.  We saw them recently when we visited Phoebe's grave ...they were there around her.  I thought how she would like deer around her.
So I had told Phoebe that story again of being in World's End, in the dark.  She had laughed at my fear, but smiled at my joy in seeing the deer.  "See Mom, that wouldn't happen in the day."  No, Phoebe it wouldn't.  And just as this darkness, the darkness of your absence, upends me, I know there are sights to behold here.  I just have to trust ...so hard for me.  Phoebe wasn't afraid of the dark ...and she is teaching me too, that darkness illuminates a beauty that cannot be seen in the daylight.  I'm trying to reach for that, to believe.
Only God will heal, will mend this brokenhearted mother ...only God will bring light to my darkness.
As I pause by the crib, as I marvel at the infant savior, and remember my beautiful daughter, readying to leave her there with Him, I pray I gain the strength, the hope, the assurance to walk through this darkness, toward the light.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace.  Amen.