A month or so ago, I started my journal with the old Simon and Garfunkle lyrics: Hello darkness, my old friend. It was the start of accepting the return of the depression that I have been relatively free from for quite a while. But with the fallout grief of moving almost two years ago, and the ongoing stress of a church that was needing and asking for a lot from me, I have not been staying on top of my self-care balancing act. The darkness and the wilderness have again become important considerations in my life. More and more days have found me just staring at my computer/list/desk/life without caring or having energy to devote to meet the moments.
The shadows have again come and I am afraid.
It isn’t the old terrors when I was actively avoiding the darkness and whatever might lurk in its depths, but fear nonetheless. I can accept it even if I am not happy with it. Hopefully in the next week or so, I will be able to talk with a trusted counselor to move out of the shadows.
However, last night I found myself with a different view on things.
I was late at the church again and making sure things were all locked up before heading home. I remembered I needed something which was in the front of the darkened sanctuary. Rather than turn on the lights I just walked up the center aisle into the darkness. Fortunately I had a little pocket LED light so I was able to avoid the small table in the center of the aisle, but it was dark. As I walked into the space, it was very dark. There were 4 hallway lights behind me, but before me I could see nothing. Absolutely nothing aside from the eternal flame at the very front.
When I say nothing I mean nothing. I knew there were pews there and I knew there was chancel furniture up there, but other than the first 2 sets of pews, it was total darkness.
I made my way to front, avoided the small table and retrieved the book that I wanted to take home with me. Then I turned to walk out. I was amazed.
As I looked from the darkness to the light, I could see all the pews. I could see the other pieces of chancel furniture around me. I could even see the little table I almost ran into. All from the little bit of light coming from in front of me.
I didn’t stop to marvel too long, I wanted to go home. But I stop to see it. When I was in the light looking into the darkness, I could see nothing. I know in a previous time I would have been racked with fear at that sight. Yet when I was in the midst of the darkness looking toward the light, I could see more. It wasn’t fully lit, but it was more.
Maybe as I begin my journey from the darkness of depression (again) I can remember that wisdom. Looking into the darkness, things look grim. Looking out of the darkness, hope provides new vision.
23:00:16