(air traffic control tower at NAS Whidbey Island)
He was losing the battle to sleep last night while I was fighting a battle with overwhelming angst, sadness, insecurity, fear. It all feels bigger, more powerful, in the dark too, I think. Sobs come from a deeper place. Desperation feels less mindless and more like the practical, only, response to “reality.” Of course, reality itself is harder to articulate in the dark. Perhaps it is afraid of darkness, as I am? Speaking truth out loud into the dark room brought more tears. I am tired of living this roller coaster of anxiety and emotion. Yet, is it this ability to feel deeply that unites me with humanity, that makes me…me? What if this “being,” this “who I am” is not the mistake, but rather the meant-to-be? What if the messiness is exactly where I am meant to be, exactly who I am to be right now? What if Jesus is in the mess with me?
This morning, in the hopeful light of a new day without rain, I thought of this picture I’d taken the other night of the air traffic control tower on base. It might be hard for incoming pilots to distinguish the lights of the base from the lights of the town, hard to find the right place to land in the darkness. But the light on top of the tower is unmistakeable. The colors, the patterns of light, these are international standards to guide pilots. Light in darkness, marking the right place, the right time.
Light in darkness, calmly reassuring: Even though it is dark, you’ve made it, you’re making it, you are safe, you are on the right track.