Susan LaffertyLight. I don’t truly consider its absence. Until one memorable experience. During middle school.
Our family is in America on stateside assignment at the time. And touring historic sites or natural wonders across several states.
Then, one day, we’re standing in a large cave.
Lights all around.
Until someone turns them off.
Sometimes troubles flow. Underneath.
A running series of concerns. Questions darting here and there.
Waking in the night. Persistent through the day. Disquiet, rhythmic.
Children’s needs. Aging parents. Friends’ struggles.
Natural disasters. State of the world.
Future plans, uncertain.
You name it.
Imperfect? Cast aside. Returned. Disposed of.
We look for something with all the parts and pieces intact. No scratches. Strong. Durable. Reliable.
“As it should be.”
This expectation? Just another subtle hint at the permanence we were made for.
But meanwhile, things fall apart. Disappoint.
Flaws come to light.
