light of the world?
Our power went out this weekend, so when I pushed open the door on Friday evening, I was happy to see that Lindsy was holding a flashlight.
I don't believe I even own a flashlight, and as I recall, the last one I had in my possession was one of those the squeezy round keychains, and I'm fairly certain that it was covered in a shrinkwrapped image of Jesus on the cross. Despite obvious scriptural support, I find it odd, and somehow theologically distressing, to have to sqeeze our dying Lord, so I let it collect dust underneath my bed. It may still be there. I honestly have no idea.
All that to say, it was nice to be greeted by a beam of light instead of pitch black, and I was thankful for a roommate who possesses forethought.
We found ourselves sitting on our living room couches, holding the flashlight and talking about faith. This isn't an everyday occurance with us, and it actually had nothing to do with my Passion of the Christ lanyard flashlight. I didn't even bring that up. Perhaps it was simply the sleepy-warm evening, perhaps there was something sort of awe-inspiring in the fact that, after a few minutes of sitting in the dark, we discovered that the sky was a light grayish white (clouds reflected off the moon) and gave plenty of light. We opened up the curtains to flood squares onto the unswept hardwood floor.
Doubts and proclamations are both easier in the dimmest of lighting conditions. I was siting in a rough charcoal sketch of my life, and this made me feel safer. So I said some stuff I've been thinking about faith, because we were on the subject.
I said it twice because I couldn't see, so there was no changing plans mid sentence based on an eyebrow twitch or a smile.
Because (and I didn't realize this until I was done talking) I really needed it to make sense.
And then I waited for my words to stop bouncing and back at me came Lindsy's "yeah. I see what you're saying."
And I let out a sigh and watched the moon make kaleidoscope patterns in the sky, which transferred ever so slightly to our dusty floor.