Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Black bunnies and a black night.

Dear friend, well hello! Glad you are here with me. You know, the two or more thing? Yep, that's us. Been a bit since I've dropped in. Haywire - that's life isn't it these days? Yes, it is. . .

I've heard it's been kind of uncertain these days, for you as much as for me. Yes, I can sure relate to that word. It's sort of like someone took the sunshine of hope and security and mushed it on down the horizon and out of our days, and leaving darkness of uncertainty even with a denseness to it that hints of despair, depression, desperation.

Most of the time, I can love the night time. So many times it brings about thoughts of day's end, jobs well done, rest at home, things like that. But not this time, not this darkness, not this night.
And does yours sort of feel like it's gonna just stay that way - all dark and dreary? Yes? I can relate.

Before I tell you all those age old comments and quotes like joy comes in the morning, tomorrow's a new day, the sun will come up tomorrow, and get you to focus on that - I want to ask you to do something sort of odd. I want you to stay in the night for a minute or two. Yes, that's what I said. Stay in the night. No, I'm not insane or out of my mind. Yes, I do have a reason for telling you this. Here, sit a spell and read on, and let me tell you about my night.

It was a couple of weeks ago now, I've kept this in my memory and been mulling it over and over for a bit. I wanted to make sure I was still enough and listening enough before I went gabbing about it like I usually do. I can't remember all that I'd done the days before this, but it was much as I'm doing now, working fast paced, being the "good worker". Working at home, caring for my family, being "the good mother". Fitting in time for some ladies stuff for church, being "the good servant". Trying to keep up with my friends as they struggle with stuff like deaths and serious health issues, surgeries, birthdays, baby showers, you know, and being "the good friend". Somewhere in that there's more being's. Being the good wife, the good daughter, the good sister, the good example, the good mentor.

And inside? I was being the good "at nothing", the good "for nothing". I was hearing that small voice inside saying "hey! I'm here! Don't forget about me! Remember me? I'm YOU. I'm the fearful one, the uncertain one, the one that can't figure any of this out, the one you won't let others see or hear. The one you think if you do that they'll think your not worth their time, that they won't have time for you. That they will think less of you. That you might add to their burdens. That you might not be able to bless them that way."

I was also getting good at telling that voice to hush now, just keep quiet. God and me, we can handle this, right God? Right? Did I pray that right God? You did hear me, right? You do know all this mess, right? You are leading me right? Huh???? Shhhhh, now. Shhhh.

So the little voice slowly started getting tired of being ignored, and started disrupting my sleep, you know that cherished escape from all that "work" of living. And after a few nights of restlessness, scattered dreams, tossing and turning, IT happened. That dreaded IT. That moment God says, yes I hear you. Yes I am trying to talk to you. Yes I know. Yes, if you'll stop and listen, can you see me trying to talk to you here????

So He waits till I'm like the Christmas poem says, "All snug" in my bed. Then He does IT . . . He wakes me up. Ugh!!!!! What was that???? Did the dog need to go out? Was there someone about to break in? Was that a car? A train? (no, not superman!). I listened to . . . .. . . silence.

So up I go, maybe I just needed to go to the bathroom . . . maybe check everyone. . . they're all here accounted for, asleep. No one sick or needing me, the dog's even snoozing. Time to check out the windows maybe, one at a time, wow . . . it's really really dark tonight. Better turn on the floodlights Stephen had installed out back for times like this . . . . nope, all's well in Backyardland.
Off go the lights. Hum.

Well, better check around front . . . they laughed at my super big peephole, the one down lower in the door than most homes for a short person like me that wears bifocals. I'm soooo grateful for it, these are dangerous times you know! Ok, so I'm looking around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but it's still dark, maybe I'd better move over to the window, I can part the blind slats just enough to peek out. Dread, fear, fatigue, irritation, all flood my weary soul. I lean my head closer, and line my eyes up with the small crack I've made between the slats. . . . . and I behold. . . . the last thing I ever thought I'd behold.

There in my front yard, surrounded by utter pitch black darkness was a circle of light. No, not divine light, not in that mysterious magical way we often pray for. But divine light none the less. It was the light from the street light I forgot was out there, the one that's older than I am. It pushed the darkness back far enough for me to see "my yard" - that plot of earth I call mine, my comfort zone. No monsters, no bad guys, no storms or tornados. But God didn't wake me up to just see all was well in the midst of my dark night. Nope. Not my Father. He's into "and then some" stuff.

Right in the circle of my street light, old and dim as it may be - small town budgets being what they are - was something He had arranged soley for me to see. There were no cars or trucks on the usually busy highway, often even late into the night. No neighbors still out late, or forgetting to turn off their own porchlights. No stray dogs, nada, nothing but stillness and quiet . . . and then the darkness moved.

It moved in two places. Two very different places. Ok, so my mind automatically thinks the worst. Most often around here when something that shape and dark moves at night it's usually a skunk. Just what I needed in my yard, a big stink. . . but wait . . . it's not just moving . . it's . . . hopping!

And all of a sudden my breath was taken away. There before my eyes in this dark night of silence were two very large, very black and beautiful wild rabbits. I've seen rabbits before, most of us have and do, what's the big deal? I even had kept two as pets for several years growing up. The big deal was, I had never seen two like this, so wild and so very black, and so calm and happy just to be there in the darkness together. They romped and played and probably were hunting snacks as they were doing so. They hopped apart, then back together, touched noses. I quietly opened the insulated steel front door, moving every so slightly to the locked glass storm door, and watched for what seemed like endless moments.

Then it hit me - Stephen and the boys have to see this,where's my digital camera! It was not where it was supposed to be, I looked everywhere, without making a sound, searched high and low, peeking back out at the black rabbits. I finally gave up, as I watched them hop back along their journey back into the blackness, gone. No one saw what I saw, not another living soul to my knowledge. Just me . . . and my Father.

I went back to bed, and told my Father I had seen what He sent my way, I had heard Him tell me He was here with us in our night. He reminded me sometimes there are things in our lives we might not see or know are there if we only had the daytimes, or if we didn't have His light to shine on them for us in the darkness. He reminded me He is over the dark as much as the light. It will not win, it will not overcome or overwhelm. He will use it for our good. He will show us things we'd never imagine in the dark times.

Then He will send us back to bed, back to sleep, a sleep that restores and readies us for the day to come.

Don't forget this, my friend. Together, let's keep looking when it's dark all around. For with Him and through Him our darkness is not our enemy. He is over all, and with us through it all. And if we look close enough . . . . there just might be black rabbits.

"And we have the word of the prophets made more certain, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts." - 2 Peter 19

"And this is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all." - 1 John 1:5

"For Thou art my lamp, O Lord, and the Lord illumines my darkness." - 2 Samuel 29

Love to you each,
Michelle