Night Lights

I love working with clay. Just like life, it's unpredictable, malleable, poignant: that is, until all hell breaks loose.

A six week triple-header with a death, a broken engagement, and three sons in transition made it feel like the chips were truly down. The reckless life of a teen became a fortunate blur. How grateful I was not to be able to imagine the chilling days ahead. Moments strung themselves into an adrenaline-forced heal. I grew accustomed to the dark as we survived it, and don't I know there are lots who can't say the same.

It's empty in that place you never want to be. A support circle can warm the periphery but it's your life, not theirs, and only you can take it on. Probably the best moment I've ever known is seeing a hand reaching down to give me a boost up. It makes a need in me to be that hand for someone else.

Last weekend in the American Cancer Society Relay for Life training class, I sat listening to a mother share her thoughts about facing her daughter's cancer. Yes, yes, I kept thinking, having a child on drugs feels like that, too. She spoke of the shock, the terror, the sense of powerlessness, the anger and reconciliation, the fight of their lives.

They say what doesn't kill you makes you strong. It surely strengthened my faith. These days, I live in hope and gratefulness for this personalized God who turned on the night light during those really long nights. I am forever shaped by it.