There is a stillness that hangs in the dark of night. Nothing stirs, nothing calls. A steady, palpable presence of silence washes over your whole body, touching every part of your skin. A heaviness lands and settles just beneath the surface and finds it’s resting place on your mind, in the part that was open to it.
The sun comes, but sometimes this heavy presence lingers. Easily recalled, it is a thing, this night of the day, this night of life.
In this space of night, there is a steady current. A pulling to sleep in it, to labor in it, to take up it’s work and run with it. It is a digging in and a picking up, and often, this labor is a requirement to make it out.
The problem is that the dark skews and changes what is true and lovely in the light of the sun. Even still, there is the truth that there is a raw beauty directly tied to darkness, because always, out of it light and strength and wisdom rise unlike out of any other space.
But darkness, it is not a place to make our dwelling place.
And the Son. He sits with us as we labor and dig and feel our way through the dark. The most beautiful sound starts in His lungs, and it rises as a melody over our very beings. A song directly to us and for us in the night of life. A composition of notes and lyrics that pick us up and carry us home.
I am not altogether sure what my song sounds like, but sometimes when I sit quietly and the world falls away, maybe I hear it‘s distant hum. Maybe I can make out His whispering notes, and what a beautiful sound it is. It is always gentle. It is always calling my name.
Kalan, you are my daughter, and I am here with you. I have not forgotten you.
His song spreads to my fingers and toes and into the very DNA He so intricately made. It fills all the spaces that were empty. His notes of strength bring life and perseverance. His tune of love is beautiful. His words of hope are worth grasping onto, and this song of His, it is worth singing to.
“At night His song is with me.” Psalm 42:8