Mike Hosey, An Elder |
I paid for a
good portion of my college by working in a small town deli/bakery. Each morning -- around 4am or so -- I would
drag myself out of bed and head to the “office.” That office was a 20 x 20 kitchen in the far
corner of an old grocery store. As you
can imagine, it’s dark at that hour.
Whenever I would click on the light switch, the dark would flee as the
room became bathed in fluorescence. The light will do that – push out the
darkness. But it will do even more. Every morning when I hit the switch, tens
of giant roaches (and probably scores of smaller ones) would flee with the
darkness. Undesirables will always flee
with the darkness.
Just last
night, I became reacquainted with how important light is, and how we need it,
as well as how we react to it. Around 3
am, my Whinese cat was whining to go outside. I drug myself out of bed, and
trudged to the dining area. I didn’t want to turn on the light because it might
hurt my eyes, since they had been in the dark for a couple of hours. So I
skipped the light switch and plotted a course through the dining area to the
back door of the house. I ran right into a hard, shin level, oak dining chair.
In my haste to correct my position, and in my anger over my mistake, I took a
back step and a side step, and ran into a pile of my hiking gear. The sharp end
of a hiking pole caught the top of my naked foot just above the toes and plowed
a nice furrow all the way to just below my ankle. When we’re out of the light,
we lose sight of important details, obstacles, and usable paths.
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