A hot and sticky night. In the room next to me son1 is tossing and turning listening to CBeebies Radio. Son2 has oddly found sleep easily tonight and is snoring hard. I am pottering around the house slowly putting to one side the things we will need when we head off for a couple of nights camping tomorrow. It has been a day of ups and downs, stresses have too easily hit my head and I struggled to cope with dinner time.
This morning was thankfully a different story, I went to Tuesday Group, we shared songs, poems and encouragements along the road with each other. We wanted to be reminded of the reality of God. I think we were. I played everyone my song of the moment: Iain Archer’s Everest.
It is a beautiful song that speaks powerfully of my emotions right now. I have no idea what the song is really about but I guess that’s the beauty of songs, they in turn become more personal as we speak our own interpretations into the lyrics and melody. This one is a song that talks of hanging on, of hope that barely breathes. It is a song that echoes the long long wait until morning, the longing for change in a situation and maybe the holding on to that final morning when everything will be ok after all.
The last two lines make me well up whenever I hear them: “Some other day when my morning comes, I’ll be the one that’s waited all night…”. Life feels very much like we are waiting for morning right now. We plough on, not knowing how long husbandface’s condition will last, we don’t know how or what life will look like beyond September. We deal with that by consuming sugar and staring at motorhome and camper van conversion sites on the internet. We trudge on through the days. We try and love the small ones well but it is hard to keep on waiting for the dawn. We know there are many blessings and wonders in this world of ours right now. Life is not as bleak as all that but every now and again the weariness hits and I am left aching for night to be over.
I think we are meant to ache for that. I think are made to live for another world, a world where there will be no more pain or suffering, where we will be able to live without conflict or confusion in our relationships, where there will be no selfishness or self protection because the hurts will be healed and we will be free to love and be loved. It’s a beautiful world to long for, it’s a beautiful light to live in the reality of now. We can keep on loving those around us because the dawn is breaking in. The new light leads us on to the true light ahead. We love poorly and impatiently but we do love. We care, oh so briefly and fleetingly but we do care. The kingdom of the other world is breaking into now.
And so we hold onto morning. We hold on for the light.
I guess I’m thinking lots about light at the moment. We have reached the point of the year where the creation around us shouts about life. Our garden is growing strawberries and lettuce we can eat. We can see the fruits of spring budding to full growth. Light and colour and richness are flooding our senses whenever we walk around with our eyes open. There is so much light. I can’t remember a year when I noticed the light so much. Maybe this year is the year I really need to see it. I am staying up later, I seem to need less sleep. My body feels more in tune with the earth it dwells in. There is so much light. Tomorrow we will live the longest day of the year, the day full of light and wonder. We will drive to Wales for a couple of nights camping in this light and we will see new things. I want to dare to hope. To embrace the outdoors joy, to guide my sons through new experiences, to get away from our house and my insane desire to clean so I can control something in our world right now. I want to hope, to hope that somewhere in this crazy life is someone who is holding us, who is pointing us to the true light in this world, who shows us more of that light not only by shinning in darkness but by giving us full light of day to enjoy and be refreshed by.
The solstice is here. Endless light is promised. We ride on towards the dawn.