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.
Christmas approaches. Like a freight train. It’s that time of year.
Loud in commercials and sales. Glitz and glitter. Richly-colored wrapping and ribbons and bows.
Bright trees. Exquisite nativities. Christmas baking on point.
And the music. Playlists mixing winter themes and manger scenes. O Holy Night and a blue Christmas without you.
In the midst of it all? Hunger for something more.
