Someone switched the light off.
It felt sorta sudden.
And here we are, traversing the pitch.
Feeling our way with awkward hands through uncertain days with anxious hearts.
It’s a weirdish existence, learning to reconcile the fear, loss and devastation alongside humorous quarantine memes, folks lamenting over chaotic kid-filled homes, and the unfortunate dilema of consuming boredom.
And yeah, I may have mentally redecorated my bedroom four times over this past week.
Cause shallow escapism is one way to cope.
Temporarily.
In the bowels of all this gloom, we wait, desperate for a smidge of anything good; a bright prospect flickering in the darkness.
On January 11th, 1989, President Reagan gave his farewell to the nation address. Dubbed “The Great Communicator”, Reagan spoke with great conviction, authority and rectitude.
And his parting lesson for the nation came in one perfectly tweetable quote…
(If that would have been a thing back then.)
“All great change in America begins at the dinner table.”
President Ronald Reagan
I concede it may not seem a revolutionary assertion, but that doesn’t negate its discernment.
Perhaps this mandated margin has rediscovered for us the goodness in gathering around the table.
The restorative aroma of home cooked meals, face to face conversations, board game playing, and daily togetherness once again fills our spaces.
Suddenly kitchen tables, backyard fire pits, and front porch swings have become nourishing places of rich connection and revived creativity.
Yes, simplicity is having it’s way with us, and we are better for it.
And maybe it’s not the remedy we are looking for most right now;
But could it be what we most need?
To know that as much as this darkness is disorientating, it is also reorienting fundamental pieces of us we’ve long forgotten.
Over and over, I replay this verse from the song, In the Embers…
Like fireworks
We pull apart the dark
Compete against the stars
With all of our hearts
Till our temporary brilliance turns to ash
We pull apart the darkness while we can
-Sleeping at Last
It is not lost on me, the privilege of having people to gather with, nor the home, food or table around which we gather.
This is not everyone’s circumstance.
But heading into Easter weekend, I am especially grateful for the ONE that ripped through the darkness like no other.
And I want with all my feeble heart to follow His lead.
Even in this. Especially in this.
As I feel my way through the wreckage, grieving my lost delusion of control…
I will pull apart the darkness, in every small way I can.
Dinner’s at six.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
John 1:5