As you may have seen on Facebook, Jennifer and I moved JonMark into his college dorm yesterday. There was, and is, a lot to say about the day’s events. My arms are still tired from carrying his stuff up to his room on the 4th floor. I will save those thoughts for a later date—maybe. Perhaps they are things that only God and I will talk about.
When I sat down to write today, I was reminded of the words of Meister Eckhart as I thought about yesterday. He once said:
"Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us."
As Jennifer and I walked away from our firstborn, and back to my salt-covered truck, tears were in our eyes and a lump in our throats. Words were hard to get out. We told him we loved him and he told us that he loved us. I wanted tell him so much still and yet I also realized that I no longer needed to. He is ready. We have done our job to the best of our ability. He will excel as a college student, as a man, and a nurse. His faith in Christ Jesus is strong and his faith will continue to grow. Jennifer and I made an attempt to talk a little on the ride home, but it was hard. Naturally our minds gravitated back to JonMark and our desire to bring him home—which we know will happen sooner than we think.
And yet, in the midst of that slight darkness, light crept through. . .
We were sad to leave Edinboro, and yet, our pride swelled. I didn’t have to pray about my sadness, or ask God for help comfort me or protect JonMark at school. I had no words to offer anyways. . . save the pride in my son and my trust in God to be with him. I wanted more from God to help me and Jennifer, but I also felt strangely that “more" was not needed as we drove home in relative silence. The only noise was the occasional *sniffle* as we dared to talk about him. [Yes, we know that we will see him soon, but we miss him anyway. Even though he reminds me that ’no one loves me.']
As I began to prepare dinner, I grabbed the bowl of eggs from the refrigerator and sat them down on the counter next to me to work. I smiled, JonMark loves to fry an egg. He eats a lot of eggs when he is home. We always said that if there was a nuclear war, he would be set so long as there were eggs to eat. He would never starve. As I cooked dinner, I thought about how pungent the kitchen would smell if JonMark was frying eggs—the spices, the sauces, and the bread that he uses are a bit overwhelming to my nose. I can’t imagine that the eggs taste at all like eggs after he’s doing preparing them. . . but he likes his spices so I don’t mind.
Suddenly, I was less sad and more content. The light had broken through. I would be sad later when Luna ran around the house looking for him and couldn’t find him. She is still confused this afternoon that he is not home. I would be sad when I heard a country singer’s voice echo the song Jennifer sang to him, “You are my sunshine.” And I still miss him now. Yet the light has broken through the darkness—even if my darkness isn’t that dark at all. God always finds a way to come and support us whether we suffer greatly or only a little.
I wonder, where are the places in your day, in your heart, that feel dark? Large or small it does not matter. . . And I further wonder if God is finding a way to break in and show you how close He actually is?
Blessings
Rev. Derek
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