Change the Light

Part of my coping strategy has been to fill my days with work. I came to a point recently when I wanted to have some fun. I needed a project – something fresh, something creative. I decided to tackle the basement. Two weeks later I’m almost finished and I think I’ve had enough fun.

I felt excited last night as I stood back to survey the newly painted walls, but that feeling evaporated as I realized the room didn’t look right. Way too yellow. This paint color has looked fine in other areas of our home, but not in the basement.

I spent hours trying to figure out a new color scheme and trying to convince myself to repaint. Then I had an idea: change the light bulbs. And just like that the walls turned a soft cream. The natural spectrum bulbs produced a truer light. Whew.

It is amazing how much the right light can improve our view. That got me thinking about another experience this week.

Sunday was my birthday and it was a joyous day. I enjoyed my time at Church and the association with friends there. The Primary children sang to me, then high-fived as I walked back to my seat. Some innocently asked how old I was. I chose not to respond, but one little boy guessed I was ninety two.

Later that afternoon my family hosted a birthday dinner. It wasn’t until I was home Sunday night that I realized my cell phone had been off all day. When I turned it on three new voice messages popped up. I smiled in anticipation of the greetings, but before I could hear them I had deal with one of the quirks of my phone.

My cell phone is rather vintage but it does most things I need so I haven't replaced it.There is one minor challenge. It’s is not easily backed up. I have some sentimental voice messages that I’ve kept for years but only listen to when I get a periodic reminder to re-save. When that reminder comes you have to go through all your old messages and save them before hearing the new ones.That was the case Sunday night. I quickly moved through the process, then stopped when I heard Harold’s voice:

“Hi Sharon, this is Harold. Just calling to let you know I got the lab reports back and everything is fine. . .” This message went on to tell the good news that there was no evidence cancer had spread from the small brown spot removed from his forehead. That spot was melanoma and the precursor to the battle that would take his life, but of course we didn’t know it then. I’d kept the message because it was such good news. In the four years since, we’ve had many moments of good news and hard news but this is the only moment captured in Harold’s voice.

A few messages later I heard this greeting: 

“Happy Birthday, a day late. . .” That happy, loving, teasing voice was my Dad. It was last year’s birthday message.

These two unexpected greetings were wonderful . . . and then painful. Grief hits unaware, like a sudden storm. In a moment I was awash in tears. I cried, and cried, and cried. After a time a hymn came to my mind and I let it play over and over as I cried. It describes a scene from the New Testament where Jesus and his disciples are in a boat crossing the sea. Jesus is asleep in the back of the boat when a huge storm comes up that frightens his disciples. They wake him.

Master, the tempest is raging!
The billows are tossing high!
The sky is o'ershadowed with blackness.
No shelter or help is nigh.

Carest thou not that we perish?
How canst thou lie asleep
When each moment so madly is threat'ning
A grave in the angry deep?

(Chorus)

The winds and the waves shall obey thy will:
Peace, be still.
Whether the wrath of the storm-tossed sea
Or demons or men or whatever it be,
No waters can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean and earth and skies.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, be still; peace, be still.
They all shall sweetly obey thy will:
Peace, peace, be still.

I’m not sure why I had this song come to mind. I wasn’t in a storm at sea, but I was in a storm of grief. Can you drown in grief? That fear, however fleeting, was real. As the words of this hymn rekindled my faith, the waves receded and I felt calm.

Though most of this was subconscious, I think the hymn reminded me to “change the light” and that made all the difference. Grief is natural. It’s needful. It’s healthy. Go ahead and cry. Ride the waves. But also know there is a constant source of peace – our Savior Jesus Christ – and when He's in the boat, we don't need to worry.