I've been thinking lately about darkness and light, "inspired" in part by some sleepless nights. For most of my life I have been a very sound sleeper, out almost as soon as my head hits the pillow and gone until I wake in the morning. But over the last few years, as is typical it seems with age, I find myself with occasional bouts of late night insomnia. I still usually fall asleep, but then "something" will wake me, a vague noise of some sort, and then before I know it I am wide awake.
When this happens I make vain efforts to fall back asleep. I clamp my eyes shut and try to block out all thoughts, sounds, and light. Usually this fails completely and after an hour or so of useless effort I get up and wander into the living room. I turn on one low light, make a cup of tea, and start up my computer, and write. Usually after about two hours of writing or reading I can go back to bed and go to sleep.
Recently I had two sleepless nights in a row. Oddly these were both followed by really wonderful days. Days in which it actually felt like Spring in the Midwest. Sunny, warm, gentle breeze. Dog park, iced coffee or iced tea kind of days. Days when life feels calm and peace-filled and near perfect.
Such a contrast, these days and nights. But in a so appropriate for a Holy Week week - a week of contrasts of light and dark, of day and night, of despair and hope, of Maundy Thursday feasting to Good Friday fasting, of rain and, then, sun. A week that began with bare trees and ends with leaves budding and beginning to unfold, of grass turning from brown to green, of flowers popping up and blooming, of winter ending and spring coming, of death turning into new life, of Holy Saturday becoming Easter Day.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen. By the grace of God, Easter comes, again.
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