Saturday, December 02, 2023

Reflections from a Moonlit Night - Michael

This has been a hard day. I am not the one who usually writes these posts, but this night - actually, this morning - I need to write. I have many, many questions. This has been a day when it is just plain hard to breathe, at times. There is a void, an emptiness inside of me that will not be filled. There is a pain in my soul that cannot find comfort. There are questions for which there are no answers. 

It is very late. I stood outside and looked up into the emptiness of the night. There were stars and a moon that bathed the mountain above our home with its sharp radiance. The trees softly reflected this same light of our lunar companion. The snow sparkled and glistened in its own way, but I hurt. I was drawn outside by the faint promise of Northern Lights. I found solitude and an odd loneliness - a deep longing for something beyond my reach. I called out into the vastness of the night sky for a sign, a word, a message - something, but there was only the darkness of the night, the twinkling of stars, the stark glow of the moon and an ever so faint hint of an aurora. 

"What do you want?" came the question to my heart. 

The question seemed ludicrous. I want Josiah back. I want one more conversation with him. I want to go fishing with him again, I want to hear his voice. I want to hold him again. I want to talk through the issues of life. At the very least, I want to hear from him and that he is ok. I yearned to know he is at peace. 

"And then what?" came a second question.

And then I will be ok..., but an image plagued my mind. I would have a simplistic proof, a simpleton's answer. I could see myself walking about as one who is devoid of the depth of a faith tested and proven in the midst of trial. I could see myself as one who dishes out the platitudes and cliches I have learned to deeply despise. I could see myself becoming what I now abhor - having a Polly Anna faith that is sickly sweet and a half inch deep.

Deep faith is not found in shallow wells.

A life without issue or trouble brings a fragility of the soul that will shatter at the falling of a leaf. 

Comfort does not produce resilience anymore than a tree sheltered from the wind produces a strong and beautiful tree that is able stand against the storms of life.

No, it is in the trial that faith grows strong. It is in walking through the valley of the shadow of death with nothing more than knowing that the Lord is with me. It is the act of holding in an open hand the questions that badger my mind and heart. It is in simple trust. It is in keeping my eyes set on the Light even as the winds blow and the waves crash against me. It is in the stillness of a starry night with the moon bathing the land and just the faintest hint of aurora. This is where faith grows strong. 

Do I want that conversation with Josiah? Desperately!

Would I trade that for the hard work of walking, believing, trusting, growing in faith? No, I would not trade, but I do want both, but only one door is available; only one path can be traveled; only one ticket can be selected. With a heart that is still writhing in agony and in the depths of pain and loss, I still choose the more difficult journey - so help me God.



Bertha Lavell Kramlich said...

I'm crying. Sobbing. You write so wonderfully. And it is all true. Thank you.

Anonymous said...

♥️πŸ™πŸ» deeply and profoundly stunning work of articulation. Beautifully written. I'm so sorry for your loss and the pain you all are enduring... with such bravery.

Joanna Brown said...

Your writing is so beautiful and right on exactly what I needed. I didn’t lose a child but I lost my mom very recently. I was there at the end but never heard her voice and know without a doubt she was okay. What I would do for just 1 more minute to hear her say I love you.
You and your entire family have touched my heart in so many ways. In my thoughts and prayers daily