step into the light

Here, a week after a severe and unexplained allergic reaction, I contemplate.  The prior Sunday evening found me overwhelmed in empathy for loved ones during the initial shutdowns per Covid-19.  A close friend had lost someone tragically.  Our neighbor had survived a horrific accident and our neighborhood was closing shops.  I called to my God and He heard me and I sent out encouragement.  One friend teased me asking if I was mistaken that it was not Monday yet, when I normally send weekly encouragements. "An extra hug," I replied.  Still, I could not shake the feeling of an impending doom.  In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, I awoke on the cusp of shock.  EMS responded quickly and ER had me tested, stabilized and back home in minimal time.  Steroids kept me stable the rest of the week, but side effects were inevitable.  I remain a bit worn but well on this side of the journey.  Throughout the week, despite any gloomy weather, I sought and soaked up any sunshine I could find...like a solar panel rejuicing!  One phrase tickled the back of my mind: "step into the light."

Step into the sunlight

from shadows dim

in mind or body

place or time.

Uncertainty and confusion

cast gray pallor

days of fog and chaos

like a long winters' night of storm.

Stars hidden, moonless.

no light nor direction, and peace eludes

despite prayer and might.

Lenten season like a dry desert

parched and tired

with moaning bones and weeping

'til misted in a dewy spray.

For winterspaast is a promise

kept each year.

Spring arrives, showing iteself in scent and bud

sweet fragrance even in damp and dank.

Surely, illness and fear and ache abound

but none need be conqueror.

For here, in our blackest moments, 

in stillness, a spark, tho tiny, ignites.

Soon, hope will take flight

 from cocoon's quiet sleep.

Here, God holds us close in oceans deep.

And faith begins growing

from mustard seed.

Planted in darkest soil,

not dark in despair but

rich in grace.

For now, rest well a bit, oh weary soul.

Trust.

Be still.

Miracles are birthing.

Step into the Sonlight at dawn's golden hour

when Peace exhales upon thee.

The shadows dim and grow in light

in mind or body,

place or time.

-Karen C. Davis-Solomon