Notes from when the lights went out. . .
Tonight, the winds came through—
Howling at our doors and sending debris scurrying. Tree branches leave their husky frames to litter streets, and leaves scatter like rolling tumble weeds.
The storms are not so fierce as that of our dear friends’ in OK, but they leave us blown about and in the dark.
The power is out all through our little town.
I pen these words by candlelight, scratching these thoughts down the old fashioned way—in land of shadow and flickering light.
At first, boys are sobered by the deepness of dark. As we drive home from church to sinister streets and lightless house, however, they exclaim over brightness of stars in this endless dark. They are soon delighted by warm glow as we play charades by candlelight and read Bible verses in swaying light.
Tonight we read of God’s covenant with Abram, and there is this, “He took him outside and said, ‘Look up at the heavens and count the stars—if indeed you can count them.’ Then he said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be.’” (Gen. 15:5)
These words hold special meaning to me. I chose them for the life verse of young Brody Whittaker in my first book for teens, Brody’s Story, because of how they touched my young heart as a girl.
The boys, however, know none of this; they only know the brilliance of the stars they saw earlier in the evening. As I read God’s words to Abram–I pause—take in their faces as they hear His voice utter these words to them.
So we go to see, again; lean in doorway and take in this glorious promise in the sky.
The Big Dipper stands on end, and I draw sharp breath—
He is touching me again.
“Do you know He was speaking of us? We are Abraham’s descendents. We are children of God… Part of our story written right there in those pages.”
Arms snake around small shoulders and all eyes are caught up in the promise.
They are tucked in by candlelight, warm light flickering over now sleeping faces.
And I sit, listening to wind whistle down chimney.
Jeff will be home soon, but for now I have these quiet moments.
I have these quiet moments to be thankful for Light.