Still Writing My Story

Someday I will tell the story.  The story of how we came back from this. Of how we overcame, and moved on, forward and up. About the presence and power of God in the valley of the shadow.

Because it is just that, a shadow. Death is not a real enemy. He has already been defeated. He clings to power like a doomed dictator, knowing his toppling is imminent. But the shadow of death feels so very real at times.

It blocks out the light and makes us feel alone. We cannot see behind or ahead, not beyond the closing in canyon walls of this valley. Filled with the echos of past lies and present worries, it can seem impossible to hear amidst the cacophony. The whispered words of truth feel inadequate against the din.

I can walk no further than the edge of the lamp in my hand. But that lamp creates a ring of light in which I am secure, no matter how dark the valley becomes or how heavy the shadow. I cannot tell the difference between day and night.

I do not know the hour or even the day, but I know that I must keep moving forward.

Someday I will tell the story. About how God came through, about our deliverance and the goodness of the Lord both during and after.
But today I am walking one step at a time, clinging to my lamp, dispelling the dark only a step ahead of where I am.